[Book 2] Catching Up Fast: Unexpected Victories, Defeats & Reactions

[Sieming]

Book 2: Catching Up Fast
Unexpected Victories, Defeats & Reactions
By: Sie Ming

This is the second book in a four book series. It begins with You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login. I didn't make any effort to make this second book stand on it's own. My gut feeling is that you won't be too terrible lost if you just start reading below. If you try that, let me know how it works out for you.

===Chapter 1: Shifting the Tables===

It started, as most things at school did, unremarkably. The cafeteria hummed after lunch. Air thick with the mingled scents of institutional meat and bruised bananas. Trays shoved aside. Half-eaten apples browning rapidly.

At Table Three, the boys turned post-lunch boredom into competition. Elbows set, wrists locked, they arm wrestled—narrowed eyes, lazy grins, matches either swift or drawn out. It was ritual, background to conversation. The girls often talked through it, sometimes watched, but never participated.

One Tuesday, the cafeteria's rhythm shifted. Kara set her elbow on the table across from Stacy, pushing her tray aside and meeting Stacy's gaze over the remains of lunch.

No announcement. No speech. Just a slow brow lift—a quiet challenge.

Stacy's spoon paused with the last bite halfway to her mouth, a dollop of yogurt clinging to its edge. She shrugged, a casual roll of her shoulders, and put her elbow down on the table, her hand meeting Kara's in a firm grip. The match didn't last long—Stacy won, hand pulling Kara's to the table with a clean thump that made a milk carton jump—but that wasn't the point. All of the girls were watching—and some of the boys, their conversations forgotten.

By next week, more girls were involved. Challenges passed between friends, accompanied by curious smiles, raised eyebrows, or shrugs. Matches ending in laughter or surprised grunts. A kind of easy momentum took it from there. The boys still arm wrestled, their grunts and cheers a familiar backdrop, but now they weren't the only ones. The field had expanded.

Jenny liked it. She didn't shout about her wins—she didn't need to. Kara, eyes bright with competition, lost to her again. Emily's slender arm lost to Jenny's well, not so little ones. Two older girls tried and failed, surprise on their flushed faces as Jenny pinned them. Brenda's swift wins, thanks to her size and strength, were just as decisive.

They never wrestled each other. Never even mentioned it. No one asked why. It was an unspoken agreement, a line they didn't cross again. Let the boys wonder.

Some of the boys came over to watch, clearly trying to look casual. Jake was often around when Jenny arm wrestled, leaning against a nearby pillar with his arms crossed or sliding into a free seat for a closer look. He wasn't the only one; his friends joined him, their presence creating a buzz of testosterone that mingled with the girls' laughter. And, at least a few days a week, Brenda and Kara would slide over to Table Three after eating. Kara would give the winner's bicep a feel, her small fingers pressing into the muscle. No one seemed to mind. She was a cute little thing, her enthusiasm infectious, her touches curious and a little flirtatious.

Jenny hadn't lost a match, even when four girls from Rob's class came to their table and challenged her one after another. Their faces, initially set with determination, quickly melted into disbelief.

That fourth match had been her hardest by far, both girls' arms trembling with effort as Jenny slowly, inexorably pressed her hand down. The match had attracted quite a crowd, students from other tables turning their chairs to watch, whispers spreading through the cafeteria. Kara had felt her bicep after that match. Still curious. Still flirtatious. It was—Jenny searched for the right word—interesting.

Brenda was the only other girl with a perfect record, her victories as quiet as Jenny's but no less impressive, her larger frame giving her an advantage that few could overcome.

And then came the first boy-girl challenge—a moment that had started to feel inevitable. Mira, ridiculously tall and slightly awkward, sat down across from Luke, one of the stronger guys, her long legs folding beneath the table. He laughed, a sound that was both confident and dismissive, and put an impressive arm down.

There were as many people pretending not to watch as there were watching, their eyes darting away only to snap back when the action intensified. Mira looked good at the start, her height giving her leverage, but then Luke got a serious look on his face, his jaw clenching as he focused, and moved her arm down to the table with surprising ease.

Jenny clocked how fast Luke finished Mira. Taller didn't help Mira as much against someone almost her height—leverage had limits. Mira sort of towered over Jenny a fact that made Jenny's victories all the more impressive to those who witnessed both matches.

Tasha tried next with Devon, her smaller frame no match for his strength. Same outcome, his arm pushing hers down with controlled power. But when Brenda asked Devon, he glanced at the clock and muttered something about having to get to class. When tiny Kara asked Sam, who never won against the other boys, Sam thought about it for a while as his eyes scanned her petite frame, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Finally, he shook his head, a small frown on his face as he said, "Maybe some other time."

It quickly became clear—boys only accepted matches when they knew they'd win. The boys who weren't confident didn't want any part of it, their gazes sliding away whenever any of the stronger girls caught their eye. Strong girls weren't challenged, and no one accepted their challenges. The strong girls soon stopped asking, even when they just wanted to hold a boy's hand. Not that she wanted that. Not exactly. Not here.

Not one boy had lost to a girl. Not one. But Jenny could see that the math wasn't honest.

Jenny stopped asking. Brenda never started. Jenny watched more closely, her observations sharpening. Who lingered when she wrestled? Who leaned forward to watch? Who avoided eye contact? Who smiled too wide when a girl lost? Some boys leaned back, feigning indifference, eyes fixed on matches. She catalogued these reactions, building her own mental bracket of who might be vulnerable to the right approach at the right moment.

Brenda laughed with girls across the table—still undefeated, still unchallenged. Jenny tapped her fingers, scanning the boys' tables. Brenda caught her gaze and shrugged. If things were to shift, Jenny needed a new strategy. Maybe a distraction.

Probably Mel.

— — —

Later, Jenny found Mel at her locker. Mel leaned against the metal, hoodie half unzipped, collarbone showing. The hallway buzzed as students rushed for the exits, footsteps echoing and voices blending into a steady noise.

"Got a minute?" Jenny asked, her voice barely audible above the din.

Mel didn't look up, zipping her hoodie slowly. "For you? Always. What's going on?" When their eyes finally met, Mel's curiosity was clear.

Jenny hesitated, stepped closer, catching a faint strawberry scent from Mel's lip gloss. "I need a favor."

Mel raised a brow, "Should I be flattered or concerned?" The question hung in the air, a playful challenge that hinted at the depth of their friendship.

"Boys won't arm wrestle me—or Brenda. Not the weak boys. Not the strong ones. They only say yes if they're sure they'll win." Jenny's voice was low, a mix of frustration and awareness of the school's social hierarchy.

Mel whistled. "Male ego: delicate ecosystem. You can't just stomp through it." She ran a hand through her hair, frowning. "It's like walking through a minefield, blindfolded."

"Delicate egosystem, more like," Jenny said. "And I don't want to stomp it," her eyes scanning the passing students. "I want to shift it. Just a little."

Mel straightened, posture turning alert. "You've got a plan, or want one?"

"I've been watching," Jenny said, lowering her voice as the hallway cleared. Her grip tightened on her backpack strap. "Some boys are curious—really curious—about how strong we are. But they won't try in the cafeteria, not with an audience. The risk is too high."

Mel nodded, gaze sweeping the vanishing crowd before landing on Jenny. "So, you want a setup. Private, no audience, just enough pressure to say yes. Making it look spontaneous is tricky—obvious setups scare boys off. They can smell a trap from a mile away."

"That's mostly your fault," Jenny grinned, remembering how Mel's assets had defeated Nate.

"Nate had a little to do with it, too," Mel said, her lips curving into a matching smile. "And yeah—I think I can help. But we'll need timing. And bait." She pushed off the locker, turning fully to face Jenny now, their shoulders nearly touching. "It's like fishing—you can't just drop the line anywhere and expect something to bite. You need to know where they're feeding, what they're hungry for. Tell me who our interested parties are, and I'll figure out who and where. You just be ready to win." She paused, her thumb tracing the seam of her jeans. "This strategy is mine to worry about."

Jenny nodded once, her jaw set with determination. "If I wasn't ready to win, they wouldn't be afraid to arm wrestle me."

"Then let's shift the egosystem," Mel said, already smiling past Jenny. "With any luck, they won't even mind."

If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment below.
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— — —
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[Sieming]

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[Sieming]

==Author's Note 2.1==

What did you think of "egosystem"? Too spot on? There's going to be a lot of arm wrestling in the next few chapters, and I needed a shorthand way to refer to everything they talked about in this initial chapter without rehashing it every time.

I've always been impressed with boys who would arm wrestle girls (not that it came up that often). The thought of losing to a girl in public would have terrified me. Now? Not so much. 

Book 1 covered about 9 months. this book only covers a month, but ends up with Jenny finally stronger than Rob. Probably about 20 chapters in this one.

[Sieming]

===Chapter 2: You Have No Idea===

Jenny watched as Rob pulled up and down. They almost always ended their workouts with pull-ups. He was on number seven, which should be halfway—they knew each other's numbers like their bedrooms in the dark—but Rob hadn't really been pushing himself that hard today. As she watched his butt go up and down—Kara had been right, he did have a cute butt—an idea occurred to her. Rob would never stop at her twelve pull-ups, but if he continued to just phone it in, if he didn't make it to fourteen...

Jenny waited, just watching Rob. She finally started the encouragement at ten. "Come on, Rob! Push!" Jenny's voice was sharp, cutting through the basement's quiet hum. "You got this!"

Rob grunted at eleven. The sweat made a dark V shape between his shoulder blades as they tightened with effort. At twelve, he was shaking. "Give me one more, Rob, you can do it!" Jenny shouted, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Come on!"

"Thirteen," Rob gasped, his forehead beaded with sweat, arms trembling violently. He hung there for a beat, looked like he thought of going up again, then dropped to the floor with his hands on his knees.

Jenny slapped him on the butt, "Nice work, Rob." 

When he looked up, she was already coming down from her first pull-up. "One," he announced a little late.

Jenny had no idea how Rob would react if she matched his thirteen. She couldn't put a reason to the thought, but she knew she wanted to see it. Of course, matching Rob's thirteen pull-ups wasn't a given. Twelve was her current record, and she didn't have any special strategy in mind apart from giving it her all. Still, she took her time and gave herself a little pause at the top of every third pull.

"Six," Rob called out.

At ten, the world had shrunk to the bar, the burning in her shoulders, and the distant encouragement of Rob's counting. Eleven, and her form wasn't great. "Come on, Jen, you've got this." Rob had come around to the front and was clapping and offering encouragement.

Twelve came with a guttural groan, legs kicking. She hung there, every muscle quivering, Rob turning away, thinking she was done. She wasn't.

She pictured Rob and his thirteenth pull-up. "One more," she gasped—and pulled.

Rob turned around and stared. That was the look she was after. That look pushed her over the bar.

"Thirteen?" Rob's disbelief captured the moment, making it clear something new had happened. Not just new for Jenny, but new between them. Something he wasn't ready to admit was even a possibility.

She didn't drop off the bar even though her arms burned. She wanted to savor Rob's shocked expression and to give him a moment to remember what came next.

There it was. He came up to her, bent down just enough to reach around below her glutes, and lifted her into the air. She knew enough by now to wrap her legs; that way, she could control when she slid to the ground instead of waiting for his arms to slip or give out. 

He started spinning them around. "Holy cow, Jenny." He seemed to run out of words.

"I know, " she answered, as if that said it all. 

She held on with her legs, and Rob, still lost in his thoughts, kept spinning them around.

Until one foot found the rug, and when the other foot came up, the throw rug slipped out from under them.

They went down together.

The floor came up gentler than it could have; years of wrestling and other assorted shenanigans had taught both of them to bend in ways that saved them from the worst of their mistakes. Her elbows and knees took some of it. So did his shoulders. She landed on him, forearms braced either side of his ribs, hair falling across her face, sweat stinging her eyes.

"Graceful," she said, looking down at him.

"Shut up," he said, but he was laughing, and for a beat the laughter was the only sound in the room.

She didn't know why she did it. It's just what you did when you were lying on top of Rob. She pressed his shoulders down and started counting. The heel of her palm found the spot by his clavicle, where she knew he was ticklish if she pushed too hard. She didn't.

His reaction was automatic and immediate. His entire body engaged as if a switch had been flipped. The laughter didn't vanish from his eyes; it just became more focused, more intense.

— — —

It was fair, Rob thought. Just barely, but fair. Certainly, within protocol, a wrestling match could start at any time, for any reason. It wasn't like he always gave fair warning.

"You call that a pin?" he asked, bridging up, hips coming off the carpet, and then twisting. It was the same counter he had used a dozen times before, a maneuver that had pinned her a dozen times. The same maneuver that had only just barely worked the last few times. A move he had never tried against someone who could do the same number of pull-ups as he could.

Surprisingly, it worked.

He was on top. He slid his hands up her torso to control her shoulders, but he ended up with his hands under her shirt. The shirt bunched up under her arms, and he lost valuable seconds trying to extract his hands from the fabric. By the time his hands were free, he was in a tight headlock—when had she gotten so strong? Okay, stupid question. At least he was still on top. 

— — —

This might not have been such a good idea, Jenny thought as she adjusted her grip on Rob's head. Her arms felt like noodles after a personal best in pull-ups. He shouldn't have been able to reverse their position like that. Not that easily.

Okay, and now her shirt was halfway off. Thanks, Rob. She wasn't really in a position to pull it back down. Rob will get to feel some abs. She flexed her abs as she pulled his head tighter against her chest.

It tickled as Rob finally got his hands out from the folds of her shirt, and she let out a bit of laughter. Then he wasted some time pushing on her shoulders, but, with his head firmly trapped, he didn't have any real leverage. Jenny shifted her arm so that her bicep was under his throat, and flexed it too. Let's see how he does if it's a little harder to breathe.

— — —

Was Jenny laughing at him? With his hands free of her shirt, Rob decided to pin her shoulders and get this over with. He dug into the meat of her delts and pushed hard. At least that was the plan. In this headlock, it was like trying to do a pushup with his head strapped to the ground—the hard ground—was Jenny flexing her abs?

Rob got ready for her to try to flip them back over by spreading his legs wide, a move that brought their bodies closer together. No flip came, but her abs were still flexed. He wondered what they felt like, and if there was a way to work abs into a back rub. Then it became harder to breathe.

— — —

Why were his legs spread out? Not that she was complaining, she usually didn't feel this in control when she was on the bottom. Rob was probably regretting showing her how to flex her bicep about now. Yep, switching from pushing on shoulders to pulling on arms. It was a lot more fun making him react.

He was shifting and squirming now as he worked to get his hands between her arms and his head. The arm around his throat seemed to be a priority. He finally got one hand on each of her biceps and started to pull.

Good luck pulling these bad boys out of position. Maybe you didn't notice, Rob, but they just did the same number of pull-ups that you did.

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. How is he so strong? Oh, right. Thirteen pull-ups. She paused, letting herself catch a breath, her eyes narrowing in focus. She gave it everything she had, but she just didn't have a lot left to give. But he can't get out of this easily. It will completely defeat the purpose of tying him in pull-ups. Not that she really had a plan in mind for that either. She just poured it on; he was still at a ridiculous angle for applying any leverage.

— — —

The first thing Rob noticed when he finally got a hand between Jenny's arm and his throat was how big her arm felt. Not just thick—it had been thick for the better part of a year. It was that they were hard now, too. Uncomfortably hard against his windpipe.

The second thing he noticed was that once he could breathe freely again, he was making slow, but steady progress pulling her arms from around his head—until he wasn't. Where did she come up with these surprising reserves of strength?

Once he broke her arms apart, it wasn't that hard to keep pulling them out further. Easier than he expected, actually. All this training was really starting to pay off.

He pried them past her pecs. Pulled them out to her shoulders. He could look her in the face now, and she wasn't laughing. He smiled; that probably wasn't a great idea. She really bore down then. Rob could feel her whole body tense underneath him as she struggled to bring her hands back together. Their hands slowly moved back toward the center. It wasn't even a good move. More like she had something to prove.

Well, she wasn't the only one. She may be catching up, but she wasn't there yet. It's not like she did more pull-ups than he did. She just tied him today, and not even his best. He moved his legs back in, raised himself up a little higher, squeezed those annoyingly beefy biceps, and moved her arms back out.

— — —

Get your head in the game, Jenny told herself as she felt Rob's legs slide in and his body rise up for another strong push. The match is the important thing, and you're not going to win with your arms again today. She did notice that his hands didn't come anywhere close to reaching around her biceps now. Did he notice that too? She kept pulling in, just to keep his attention focused there, and to give herself time to think.

She couldn't wait too long. Once he got her wrists on the rug, the match would be over.

Then she got an idea.

— — —

Once Rob got her arms past shoulder width, he could shift from pulling them apart to pushing them apart. That was easier. His hands moved—a little reluctantly if he was being honest with himself—from her biceps to her forearms. He kept pushing.

His hands moved from her forearms to her wrists. He kept pushing. His arms holding hers out; his weight pushing them down on the rug. Rob was ready to declare what turned out to be a surprisingly quick victory when several things happened all at once.

Jenny moved her arm down toward her waist. He would have to let go or slide lower on her body. Rob slid lower. While Jenny's arms moved down, her legs moved out. He slid lower, not down her legs but between them. That was unexpected, and not entirely unpleasant.

She raised her legs, locked them behind him, squeezed her thighs, pulled her wrists free, pulled her shirt down, and smiled up at him.

— — —

What do you think of the quads, Robert? Jenny squeezed a little harder, and it occurred to her that this was a lot like riding bareback. Actually, with her ankles locked, it was even easier to really bear down on Rob than it was to clamp onto Cricket.

It would be more like riding Cricket if she could have figured out a way to turn Rob first. The contact would have been more similar, and she could have pitted her thighs against his abs directly. But he was still twisting and flailing, trying to get out of this new hold. He even tried to use his arms to pry her legs apart. She knew that wouldn't work.

Jenny couldn't believe she hadn't tried this before.

— — —

Wow! Jen could really bring some pressure to bear with her legs. It wasn't enough to make him tap out. Not yet, but it was surprising, and getting more uncomfortable by the moment. He couldn't reach around to unhook her ankles, and trying to pry her legs apart proved futile—interesting, but futile. It really shouldn't have surprised him that they were hard. Jenny had more hard spots than soft ones now.

He would eventually lose unless he found a way out from between Jenny's legs. He squirmed and twisted. She let up a little when he really leaned into the twist, and he turned on his side. Then she really poured on the pressure. He soon realized that turning had definitely been a mistake.

— — —

Jenny just had to wish for something hard enough, and Rob made it happen. From this new angle, she could bear down directly on his abs, and she did. He had nice abs, and as he flexed them and bucked trying to break free, this was becoming more and more like riding bareback. Distractingly like riding bareback. Maybe better, because she could decide when to squeeze, when to hold.

Then his hands were back on her shoulders, and were driving them tightly into the floor.

— — —

The squeezing was a little more bearable now. Instead of one intense, prolonged squeeze, it was coming in waves. Still not pleasant, but easier to deal with, and it gave him a little time to make a plan. Besides, Jenny's new strategy seemed to require more concentration, and it left her a little distracted.

It was while Jenny seemed slightly distracted that Rob thought of a way to win. Maybe he could pin her before her thighs forced him to tap out? 

He had a bad angle, and he really had to twist, but once he had her hands again, he worked his way up her forearms, to her biceps, and, reluctantly, on to her shoulders. He pushed them to the rug with everything he had.

— — —

She tried to just raise her shoulders off the floor. She tried to do a sit-up. That worked for a bit, but it wasn't a solution. "One!" Her arms weren't in any shape to move his, but she gave it a shot.

She was sure she could squeeze him hard enough to make him stop, but she didn't think she could do it before he reached Three. Still, there was no reason not to call that plan A and put it into action. She could use her thighs to roll him so that they were both on their side. She was sure she could do that, but wasn't sure she could keep him between her thighs afterwards. "Two!".

She could just keep squeezing after he got to three. It would be hard to claim a victory if you couldn't breathe. 

— — —

He thought he might sneak the win in before she noticed, but no such luck. It was her turn to twist and shift. She actually got her shoulders off the ground for a bit with that sit-up. Those abs weren't just strong looking.

She REALLY poured on the pressure after he announced One. If she had squeezed like that from the start, or did that instead of the pulses, he probably would have tapped out by now. It was surprisingly hard to keep his abs flexed and say Two, but he managed to get it out.

Three would be harder, but he never got the chance. When he heard the heavy footfalls on the stairs, Jenny rolled him left, unhooked her ankles, rolled back right, and sat up breathing hard. By the time their father got to the bottom of the stairs, Rob was on his knees, looking at her curiously.

Since when had parental units showing up stopped a match?

"You guys look like you were really going at it," their dad said from the second step. "But it's a school night, so get to bed. You can settle whatever started this tomorrow."

Rob got to his feet. "Nothing to settle." Rob said, pulling Jenny up, "Jenny got a new PR in pull-ups, and then, well, I'm not really sure what happened."

"New PR, huh?" Mr. Wilson put his arm around Jenny, and they started up the stairs together. At the top of the stairs, he continued, "Nice work on the new record, now get ready for bed." But he motioned for Rob to stay back.

"I'm glad you and your sister are still close, Rob. Take good care of her."

Rob wasn't really sure what his dad meant by that. They were close. They always had been. No reason for that to change now, unless there was.

"Okay, Dad," he said. It seemed like the right answer. His dad nodded once, satisfied, like something important had been settled.

Rob was pretty sure it hadn't been.

The water hit his shoulders in a heavy, steaming sheet, and Rob let it run there for a moment before he even reached for the soap. His abs felt like he had done a hundred sit-ups. They might be bruised.

God, that match.

He shut his eyes, head tipped forward, and tried not to picture the exact moment Jenny wrapped her legs around him. Tried—and failed.

He sucked in a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Stop thinking about it," he muttered to himself, voice drowned by the spray.

He reached for the soap and lathered it between his palms. The motion was automatic, the way a shower always started. Chest first—broad strokes over the ache in his pecs. His skin was warm from the steam, his heartbeat odd and off-rhythm. His fingers dug in slightly, tracing the same spot Jenny had held him—locked tight to her chest—her arm flexing around his neck. He could still feel the hardness of it, the mound of muscle pressing in.

His breath caught. He hadn't meant to remember the feeling of her grip that vividly.

His hand slid to his arm automatically, soaping his bicep. He lifted his arm and flexed, comparing it to his memory of hers. The thought made him wince a little. "Shouldn't have let her get that headlock," he said under his breath.

Except... he hadn't let her. Not really. She'd gotten it clean. Fast. Strong. So strong. He had been a little surprised when he broke her hold, and oddly proud when he forced her arms out.

Rob worked lower, rubbing across his stomach. The familiar ripple of abs met his fingers...There wasn't a bruise, but they felt different, too. Too aware. Too warm. He remembered the moment he'd turned on his side—how her thighs clamped down with sharp, insistent pressure, the strength of them squeezing into him from both sides. Was there an exercise to strengthen his obliques? He was going to need one.

Every time he touched himself, his body remembered her body—how it felt, how it made him feel.

He hated that.

No—he didn't hate it. He hated that he didn't hate it.

Great. That cleared everything up.

He braced his hands against the tile, letting the spray beat between his shoulder blades. "It's just wrestling," he told himself. "It's always been wrestling. We do this all the time."

His voice didn't sound convinced. He turned the water colder.

His dad's words floated back to him: Take good care of her.

Yeah. He was trying.

He didn't think his dad meant "Let her squeeze you between her thighs until you can't breathe."

The thought made him snort, but the laugh died quickly. His dad couldn't see what was shifting between them. Not the real part. He wasn't even sure what that was.

What had really messed him up was the end—the moment he had almost said "Three." How she'd twisted him over like it was nothing. How he'd had her arms but didn't have her, how close her face had been, how her eyes had looked—unfocused, but fierce, something new burning behind them.

Something he wasn't ready for.

And then footsteps on the stairs had saved him.

Saved them.

He didn't want to think about what might've happened if they'd been alone for another minute.

Rob pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, breathing out slowly.

Tomorrow, he'd act normal. He always could act normal.

He didn't look down. Looking down seemed like a terrible idea. Instead, he straightened, ran one more hand through his hair, and shut off the water. His heartbeat slowed as the spray stopped, but the other heat stayed with him, still creeping under his skin.

He toweled off quickly, like any wrong move might bring the whole mess of conflicting thoughts back too sharply. He tied the towel around his waist and looked down. Everything looked safe. He tried to think of something to say to Jenny that didn't sound like whatever he had been thinking in here.

"Nice job getting thirteen today." No. Too normal. Too telling.

"You almost had me." Too honest.

"You're getting strong." Too dangerous.

He walked down the hall, hair damp, heart doing that weird off-beat flutter again. He hesitated outside her door, then walked in. "Dad was right. Nice work on the thirteen pull-ups. That was really something."

— — —

"Thanks," Jenny said, looking at him in the mirror as she continued to brush her hair. "Are you ready for round two?" He was only wearing a towel.

"Are you kidding? There's no way that doesn't wake the whole house." Rob was quiet for a moment, watching the brush rise and fall. Watching her bicep rise and fall. "Anyway, nice arms."

Jenny smiled, then Rob added as he turned to leave, "And your quads were pretty amazing too."

Jenny actually blushed at that.

You have no idea, Robert Wilson. No idea.

After he left, Jenny set the brush down and just looked at herself in the mirror for a minute.

Nice arms.

She rolled her eyes at her own reflection. "You're such a dork," she muttered.

He hadn't said it like a joke, though. That's what kept circling back. Rob didn't say it in a teasing or mocking way. Just... stated it.

Like a fact.

A fact like Thirteen.

Her arms suddenly felt even more tired just thinking about it. She hadn't really caught up to him, but Rob's eyes when he'd turned around at "Thirteen?" She could still see that look so clearly. That half-second when his brain seemed to just... stall out. Like he'd opened a door expecting a closet and found a staircase instead.

Worth it, but it almost lost her the wrestling match. She was not used to being so manhandled by Rob—not in the last year or so. Not used to noticing everywhere his hands went on her body, either. Her shirt had ridden up before, but she couldn't remember Rob pushing it up.

And your quads were pretty amazing too.

Her cheeks warmed. It was stupid to blush alone in her room, but her body didn't get the memo.

Jenny's gaze dropped down to her legs, bare from mid-thigh. She shifted her weight, watching her thighs change shape. They looked normal when she was just standing there. Normal-ish. When she flexed, though.

She straightened, braced one foot back, and squeezed. The inner curve firmed, the outer line sharpening for a second. Did they look amazing, Rob? Or did they feel amazing?

Jenny shifted on the mattress, letting one knee fall to the side, feeling the stretch along her inner thigh. The feeling of him between her legs came back in a rush: the heat, the solid line of him, the way he'd tried to twist out and she'd just... squeezed.

It really had been like riding bareback. That same deep, rolling pressure as her muscles worked. The way every squeeze sent awareness up through her hips, into her stomach, along her spine. Only this time it was Rob. And he pushed back. And she had to keep squeezing. And it had done something to her—something warm and swoopy and absolutely not the kind of thing you were supposed to do with your brother. If their dad hadn't interrupted the match...

Her face went hot again.

And she was winning the match. Almost winning. Definitely not losing.

The thrill when he couldn't pry her legs apart. When he had to twist and squirm and actually think about what to do. The knowledge that if Dad hadn't come down the stairs, she might have had him. Or he might have had her. Hard to say. But if her arms hadn't been wet noodles?

"I'm going to beat you," she whispered into the crook of her elbow. "For real. Soon."

That part felt simple. True. She'd keep doing pull-ups, keep doing everything, keep closing the gap. She wanted him to know how strong she was. She wanted him to feel it. Her stomach did a small, unhelpful flip.

And what happens when he does?

She let the question hang there, heavy in the dark. When she beat him. When there wasn't any doubt. When she was clearly, obviously stronger in something they both cared about.

Would he be proud? Mad? Crushed? Would he stop wrestling her? Stop letting her crawl into his bed for back rubs, stop letting her be his little sister?

"You have no idea, Jennifer Wilson," she sobbed softly into the quiet room.

If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment below.
(Remember: your comments keep me writing.)
— — —
All of Book 2 (20 chapters, 47k words) is available for $2.00.

[Sieming]

==Author's Note 2.2==

This chapter didn't exist in the original writing of Book 2. As with Book 1, after just plowing through to get the story out of my head and on paper, I noticed some things that were missed, or changed along the way. Spoiler alert: book 2 ends with a wrestling match, but it was the only wrestling match in Book 2. That didn't seem right, so I decided that another was needed, and having it (almost) at the start seemed to book-end things nicely.

It actually took me some time to come up with a reason for the match to be interesting. Jenny and Rob being almost even in strength had already been explored, so I looked for a reason for Jenny to not be at full strength. Right after a workout where she was going full out and Rob was phoning it in seemed like a great answer. Rob would be motivated because Jenny tied him in Pull-ups, and Jenny would have to try something new.

They have used their legs before, but a full on leg scissors is new, and served a few other purposes in the story as well, which I hope were apparent enough.

I realize that I'm not a great writer, but I am proud of the wrestling part of this chapter. I didn't know if I could pull off the alternating, overlapping viewpoint, and I think it turned out reasonably well. I would be interested in any feedback you might have on how it read.

I actually tried  having chatGPT write this chapter from an outline. If you're interested, you can read what it came up with. I didn't like it. In fact, I liked it so little that I decided it would be easier just to write it myself. My normal process had been to write an extensive outline, have chatGPT ask a lot of clarifying questions, and then have it take a first crack at the prose. After that I would edit it extensively, check it with Grammarly, use NovelAI to expand some sections or change the tone in one direction or another, then generally two more rounds of manual edits. This chapter was: Me: Grammarly: Me.

[Sieming]

===Chapter 3: Too Small Triangles===

They dove off the rock together.

It was the hottest Saturday of the year so far. Hot enough that swimming finally made sense. A small pile of clothes—sneakers, towels, shorts, and two swimsuits with straps tangled like discarded ribbon—were left on the rock. The grass was green, and the trees were starting to show leaves; the air carried that first unmistakable scent of spring.

Mel surfaced first, hair slicked back, arms breaking the water wide. Jenny followed, gasping with laughter, flinging droplets as she stood on her tiptoes.

"Colder than it looks," Jenny said, nose wrinkling.

"No kidding," Mel replied, shaking her head like a wet dog. "I think my spleen just shut down."

"Race to the dock?"

Mel didn't answer; she just took off. Jenny watched her form for a moment before giving chase. With just a little head start, this should be a good race. Mel's kicks were as good as ever, actually better than ever. Probably better than hers. But Mel hadn't really swam in 9 months, and Jenny had better arms than everyone she had ever swam against. Well, all but one.

It was almost always skinny dipping now, at least when Rob wasn't with them. It had started as a dare, but it just felt different. When she tried to describe it, she always came up short. It was freeing? It was exhilarating? Today it was cold!

They were about halfway to the dock now, so Jenny put a little more into her strokes. It wouldn't do to let the sprinter beat the swimmer. Swimming wasn't really something that required concentration now, at least apart from meets, and Jenny tried to get her thoughts in order. There were things she wanted to ask Mel about—about Rob, and about that wrestling move. If she dared.

Jenny touched the dock first and turned to wait for Mel, but all thoughts of what she wanted to say evaporated from her head when Mel shot up out of the water.

"Holy Cow! Are those things bigger?"

Mel looked down as they bobbed below her, "God, I hope not." Jenny watched as Mel slowed her legs and sank a little lower in the water. "In fact, I know they aren't. I started keeping track about a year ago. At first just for fun, then, well, it seemed like a good idea. They haven't grown any since January, they just look different in the water. Buoyancy or something. There's probably a law of physics about it."

Jenny burst out laughing, and almost went under. When she had things under control, Mel gave her a look, "Not the sort of reaction they normally get."

"Sorry. I just thought of a joke. It's not that funny, it just landed oddly in my head."

"Well, now you have to tell me."

Jenny just bit her lip. So Mel continued, "Is it about them? It can't be nearly as bad as some of the things I've heard."

"I'm just worried that it's not that funny. You know how sometimes when you say things out loud they fall flat?"

"Out with it. If it's good, maybe I can work it into the act."

Jenny sighed, then started, "Mel's boobs are so big..."

Mel knew how these jokes worked, so she deadpanned, "How big are they?"

"Mel's boobs are so big, they made up  laws of physics about them." Jenny ended it like a question instead of a punchline.

Mel thought for a moment and tried, "They have their own physical laws?"

Jenny shook her head, "They have their own laws of physics."

"Yeah, that's it. I can't believe we just workshopped a Mel's Boobs joke. You cannot say that to anyone!"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Anyway, it probably wouldn't land right if they weren't bobbing there in front of the audience."

Mel glanced down, then back up at Jenny, mouth crooked, maybe a little thoughtful, and answered, "They're not always this much fun."

Jenny looked up again, surprised. Mel wasn't usually like this. She joked about them. She didn't talk about them, not really—not in any real way.

— — —

Mel shrugged, shoulders just above the surface now. "You get used to the staring. Kind of. I've got this... filter now. I feel it happening and just... let it wash over me. Like rain. I've learned to tune out the whispers, the nudges between guys when I walk past. I've even gotten good at the subtle art of positioning my body, my arms, my posture to create distance without seeming rude.I pretend I only see people look when I want them to. It's easier that way." She snorted. "And I only let people touch them when I want them to. That part I got straight pretty quick."

She paused, eyes tracking a dragonfly skipping across the pond's surface. She hadn't realized just how much she needed to get this out.

"What I haven't figured out," she added more quietly, "Is whether a guy likes me or them." Her eyes stare down below the surface. "It's hard to tell if they're into Melissa or into 'The Twins.'" Every compliment gets filtered through this lens of doubt. "You're beautiful" becomes "They're beautiful." "You look great today" becomes "They look great today." Sometimes I just want to rip off my own shirt and wave it like a flag, shouting "IS THIS WHAT YOU CAME TO SEE? CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE WEATHER NOW?"

Jenny's throat tightened. "Yeah," she said slowly. "That sounds... like a lot."

"You're lucky to have Rob," Mel went on, like she hadn't heard the wobble in Jenny's voice. "He never really stares, not in a way that you'd mind. Not even when it's basically impossible not to." She looked up into Jenny's face, "I can't tell if he's just, like, a perfect gentleman..." She drew little triangles in the water with one fingertip. "...or if he likes me for me. Or if I'm just his other sister."

Jenny's answer came out before she thought it through. "Yeah, sometimes it'd be nice if he noticed us more."

"Us, huh?"

Heat rose up Jenny's neck. "Any guy. I mean, you have all sorts of guys. I mean... You know what I mean."

Mel held her gaze for another second, searching her face, then let it go with a soft "Mmm," and a tiny nod. "Okay. Us." For a moment, the only sounds are the distant chirping of birds and the soft splash of water against the dock. Mel's eyes drift to the shore, then to the sky. Some things don't need to be said aloud to be understood between friends.

They floated there a moment, the dock bobbing gently beside them, wood creaking softly.

"But honestly?" Mel's voice grew quiet, the playful tone from moments before vanishing like ripples in the water. "The worst part hasn't even been boys."

Jenny tilted her head. "No?"

Mel shook her head, wet hair slick against her cheeks. "It's Joanie."

Jenny went still. Mel's smile hadn't reached her eyes; they were wide and glassy, catching the afternoon light like dark water. Jenny's own smile faltered.

"She was always The Sexy Librarian," Mel said, voice going distant. "Older, mysterious, bigger than Maddie up top, even though she was younger, first one in makeup, turning heads at the grocery store. It was like... her thing." She flicked another arc of water. "Then last year I just... caught up. Caught up, and didn't stop."

Jenny didn't say anything. She just stayed close, fingers lightly resting on the edge of the dock, anchoring them both.

"Last fall, Mom made her help me shop for new bras," Mel continued. "I'd outgrown all of her hand-me-downs. There were no new ones coming. We went into the changing stalls and..." She huffed out a humorless breath. "I came out in her size, and Joanie looked at me like I'd stolen something from her closet without asking. Except they were... attached."

Jenny winced. "What did she say?"

"She was mostly quiet, but then at Church, after talking with two guys she graduated with, 'They're only interested in two things!'" Mel's imitation was uncanny, older-sister sharp. "At the Christmas party, she humiliated me in front of everyone 'Definitely not old enough to wear that dress!" Mel lifted her hands and did air quotes as she tread water.

"That's awful," Jenny said.

"It got weirder after that," Mel said, shrugging one shoulder. "She stopped letting me borrow clothes. She started making little jokes. Like, 'Well, you don't need my help anymore,' and 'Maybe leave that top to someone a little less... obvious.'" Her jaw tightened. "I  don't think she likes having a little sister who outgrew her. It's like I'm supposed to stay three inches shorter and two cup sizes smaller forever."

"That's not fair." Jenny said the words fierce and small at the same time.

Mel's eyes shone a little too bright in the sunlight. "On the plus side," she said lightly, "I did have a very handsome young doctor offer to get me a drink at the Christmas party." She left off the part where Joanie took that away from her.

Jenny's mouth dropped open. "No."

Mel's smile was real this time, but fragile. "I mean, I wouldn't have let him. But still." She rolled her eyes. "Joanie did not think it was funny."

Jenny started laughing, but the sound crashed into something tight in Mel's face. She caught herself, swallowed, and just said, "That... sounds complicated."

Mel gave a tiny, helpless shrug. "Sometimes it feels like I grew up faster than she wanted me to. Or... than she did. And she doesn't know what to do with that." Then in a quieter voice, "Sometimes faster than I wanted to."

Jenny didn't think about it. She pushed off the dock and wrapped her arms around Mel, right there in the water.

The sudden hug made them start to go under. Mel's arms flared out automatically to keep them afloat, but her legs kicked in without thinking, strong and sure. After a second she realized she didn't really need her arms at all; her thighs and calves could hold both of them up, and she returned the hug. It was... Intimate.

"Sorry," Jenny mumbled against her shoulder. "That just... sucks."

Mel's chin rested briefly on top of Jenny's head. "Yeah," she said softly. "It does."

They bobbed there in the quiet, water sloshing gently around their shoulders. Jenny drifted back a little, keeping one hand hooked on the dock to steady them.

"Do you know about Rob's Book of Challenges?" she asked, trying to lighten the air.

Mel narrowed her eyes. "I'm almost afraid to ask."

Jenny grinned. "It's harmless. He keeps it under his mattress, writes down things that he wants to accomplish. You know. 'Ace a math test.' 'Do ten pull-ups.' 'Make varsity.' They don't all work out."

"That sounds extremely on brand," Mel said.

"I'm just wondering if he has 'Naked Water Hug' in there somewhere," Jenny added.

Mel pictured that hug with Rob instead of Jenny. That might break him. She barked a surprised laugh. "You two are menaces."

They let the giggles run their course, then Mel's expression soured again.

"Believe it or not," she said, "hugs can be dangerous for me too now."

Mel stared across the pond for a long moment.

"You know my cousin Tim?" she said finally. "The one from out near Oakview. Sandy blond hair, more or less our age?"

Jenny nodded.

"He used to be my favorite person in the world. Every family gathering, we'd pair off. Exploring the creek, climbing hay bales, riding bikes, whatever. We were always together. Like our own little team."

Mel's voice was steady, but quieter now.

"So last year at his birthday, he's sitting at the head of the table—cake, candles, the whole thing—and everyone's going up one at a time to give him their presents. I had this perfect gift for him.  Spent forever picking it out. A model I knew he wanted."

Jenny was listening closely now, eyes fixed on Mel's.

"I was so proud. Gave it to him, and then—I don't know. I did what I always did. I gave him a big hug. Real hard. Like I used to. Big cousin hug."

Mel's mouth twitched, but she didn't smile.

"It was the first time I really noticed how much more of me there was. Like I filled the hug differently. I didn't even mean anything by it—it was just us. But I saw it on his face. Something changed."

Jenny's brow furrowed.

"He opened the present and said thanks. But... I don't know. After that, he was weird. Not mean. Just distant. We didn't do anything together for the rest of the party. And he's been that way ever since."

Mel took a slow breath. "Sometimes, they chase people away."

— — —

Jenny didn't know what to say. She couldn't relate—not even a little. Her chest was flat as a board. She wanted the kind of presence that people noticed. But this? This sounded lonely.

So she said the first thing that came to her.

"I don't want to chase people away.."

Mel looked at her, surprised—then smiled. "Neither do I."

Mel swallowed. "He used to be my favorite person. And now I feel like I did something wrong just by... existing in three dimensions." Her fingers traced more idle triangles on the surface between them. "Guys don't always know what to do when we start becoming women before they're ready. Bustier. Taller. Or..." Her gaze slid sideways to Jenny's shoulders. "...stronger than they are."

They lapsed into silence as they swam back toward shore, strokes slow, the water frigid as they passed over the spring. Jenny's thoughts churned, tangled threads of Rob and Joanie and Tim and boys at Table Three and the feeling of being stronger and weaker, bigger and smaller, at the same time.

When they could touch sand, Jenny turned to Mel, suddenly curious.

"Hey, when you hugged Tim," she asked, lifting herself a little higher in the water, "were they like this?" She glanced down, left then right.

Mel looked, then smirked. "No. More like this."

She mimicked Jenny's motion, and they spoke for themselves — hard, and to the point.

Jenny's eyes went wide, then clamped shut as she squeaked and choked out, "That's so unfair."

They both sank down again, giggling like they were ten years old.

They ducked under for one last splash, then waded out, water streaming from their skin, the air sharp and alive. It really wasn't fair.

— — —

On the walk back, with towels draped around their shoulders, Mel reached over and grabbed Jenny's hand.

They walked a few steps like that in easy silence before Mel said, just once, "Thanks."

Jenny gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Thanks."

They started the walk back to the farmstead in silence. Jenny still had something she wanted to talk to Mel about, but she couldn't think of how to start.

Eventually, a phase Mel used floated back to her, and she began, "The boys at school definitely don't know what to do now that we're becoming women," she said. "Beating them at arm wrestling is going to be fun." Then, "I'm a little worried that Rob won't know what to do either."

Mel read the lines in Jenny's face, "What happened?"

There was a long pause while she collected her thoughts. She needed to talk to someone, but—even with Mel—how much could she share?

When she finally decided, it came out in a rush, "I sort of tied Rob in pull-ups, and when I was laying on top of him, I tried to pin him, but my arms were noodles, and I didn't want to lose right after I tied him, so I trapped him between my thighs and squeezed, and it was exciting, and I couldn't stop squeezing, and then dad came down the stairs, and he said I had amazing quads."

Mel tried to process all that, and decided to start at the end, "Your dad said you have amazing quads?"

"No, that was Rob, after his shower. He came into my room in a towel and said it." Okay, that might have come out wrong. Jenny smiled and shrugged.

Mel just let that slide and continued, "And your dad saw you squeezing Rob between your thighs?"

"No, at least I don't think he did. I managed to let Rob go and push him away when we heard dad on the stairs." God, she hoped dad hadn't seen that.

"Jenny, what part of Rob were you squeezing between your thighs?"

"Oh, just his abs." She paused and leaned against a fence rail. "That's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. Wrestling with Rob is always exciting, but squeezing him with my ankles locked behind his back was extra exciting. Extra warm. Remember when I told you about riding bareback?"

"I remember," Mel said quietly.

Jenny searched for words that didn't feel like saying too much. "It was like that," she said finally. "When you have to really squeeze just to hang on and everything just... lights up. Only this time it was Rob, and he was trying to get out, and I had to keep squeezing or I'd lose. It was all very confusing."

Mel turned and put her hand on the rail. "But your dad didn't see, and Rob didn't seem to mind?"

Jenny shook her head, "Rob was just trying to beat me. I'm not sure he noticed. Except, I mean, 'Amazing quads'."

"Then I think you don't have any immediate concerns." Mel decided not to add, 'And maybe some decisions to make.' She smiled. "Could you imagine if I did that?" She said, brought one leg up and put it on the fence. "I might have killed him."

Jenny snorted. "I don't know, he was pretty hard—" She stopped, heard the words the way Mel would, and choked. "His abs. His abs were pretty hard."

Mel dissolved into helpless laughter, and Jenny soon joined in. After they calmed down Mel asked, and Jenny could tell she was genuinely curious, "Would you have won? If your dad hadn't interrupted things?"

"I'd say my chances were about fifty-fifty, but I... got distracted, and Rob was really fighting—more than normal. Besides, my arms really were pretty worthless."

"You know why he was fighting so hard, right?"

Jenny knew the answer, but was surprised at how reluctant she was to say it. "Because I had just tied him in pull-ups."

Mel watched her for a long moment. "And that was amazing, and I'm really proud of you, and I hope you are proud too. But remember," she said quietly, "he's part of your whole... delicate egosystem too. You don't want to chase Rob away by outgrowing him too fast." Like I chased Joanie and Tim away.

Jenny swallowed. "I know," she said. "That's what I'm scared of."

Mel bumped her shoulder gently. "For what it's worth? I don't think you will. He's not Joanie. Or Tim. He's Rob." She hesitated, then added, "He didn't have to tell you that your quads were amazing."

"I'm a little late for our workout now. Should I stop at twelve this time? That doesn't seem right."

Mel shook her head, "No, I wouldn't hold back; but I don't think today is the day to push for fourteen either. You know, I've never actually seen you guys working out before."

"You should join us. It would break up the routine a little."

— — —

Mel and Jenny were headed toward the house when they heard music coming from the barn.

"I guess Rob must have given up on me making our workout. I should at least apologize."

They were in the barn before Mel realized that this might not have been a great idea. Rob hadn't seen her in her swimsuit since last fall, and that was many months and several cup sizes ago. It would be problematic for Jenny to see Rob staring right now. Oh well, pulling her shirt on now would send the wrong message too. She'd just have to trust Rob.

The barn doors were open at both ends, and Rob had his back to them—literally. Mel was about to yell out over the radio that jeans and no shirt was a good look for him, when Rob jumped up and started doing pull-ups.

Mel and Jenny got into the shade of the barn and—as if they had arranged it ahead of time—just stopped and watched. Rob looked different than he had last fall on the dock. No one would call him scrawny now. It might even be a stretch to call him thin. On the other hand, athletic wasn't the right word either. Wiry was probably about as close as she could get. Working out with Jenny was clearly working out for Rob.

Mel leaned over and said to Jenny, "He doesn't look bad. You could have warned me."

Jenny didn't answer right away, and when she did, Mel wasn't sure what question she was answering.

"I've never seen him topless when he's pumped up like this. He looks a lot different when I'm rubbing his back. Not like this. He looks pretty good, right."

Topless didn't seem like quite the right word, but she let it pass. She watched Jenny watching for a few more pull-ups before answering, "Ya think? That's ten, right?"

"Yeah, I wonder how many he'll do?"

The answer, Mel noted, was fourteen, and three-fourths.

Mel turned down the radio while Rob was still bent over with his hands on his knees. "Looking pretty good there, Robby." To his credit, he only jumped a little—and stared even less. Good job, Robert.

When Rob answered, he spoke to Jenny, "Sorry I started without you. I figured you forgot. What do you think?"

"Um, you look pretty good, I guess."

Was Rob blushing? It was a little hard to tell; he was pretty flushed to begin with.

"No, what do you think about working out in the barn? It was so nice out here, and so dank in the basement. All I really had to do was clean up the tack room a little, and add a pull-up bar." Rob was gesturing around as he spoke.

Jenny was definitely blushing a little. "Oh, yeah, I think it's a great idea. If I'm going to be hot anyway, I'd rather be hot with a breeze. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. We were going to lay out by the pond, but the weather was so nice we decided to go for a swim. I guess we lost track of time."

"So, do you want to work into the next set? Or do guys have other plans?" Rob asked.

Jenny seemed like she was on firmer footing now, "Nope, working out is why we're here. Mel said she'd join us. We'll count swimming as our first set."

Rob looked back and forth between them before asking, "Do you need to change first?"

Mel was about to open her mouth when Jenny said, "Nope, we'll be fine." Okay, it looks like that's the way we're going to play it. Not entirely fair to Rob, but it should be entertaining.

She sat down on a hay bale as Jenny jumped up and grabbed the bar. From here she could watch Jenny and watch Rob watch Jenny.

They kept count for Jenny as she went up and down methodically, with her ankles crossed and her knees bent.

Ten. Rob kept his eyes so intently on Jenny's back, that Mel decided to do a little experiment. One arm stretched up, the other arm down, and both back a little. She regretted being quite so obvious when Jenny paused halfway up to glare at her. How do you even pause a pull-up?  It was impressive. Rob's eyes never left Jenny's back.

Okay, now she really wanted to see Jenny's back in action. Mel could see the lats and shoulders fine—probably bigger than Rob's—but anything that would keep a guy from seeing her stretch in this bikini had to be next level.

Twelve. How was Jenny going to play this? Looks like she's going back up. Good for you, girl. And no. She's dropping to the ground. Looks like we're going with, 'Swimming took a lot out of me.' Mel watched Rob's face carefully, and had no idea how he managed to look disappointed and relieved at the same time.

Jenny was still giving her a glare when she landed, so she jumped right in, "You should have seen Rob's face. He never took his eyes off your back." Jenny's glare turned into something more thoughtful.

Mel thought that might also serve to rattle Rob a bit, but he just said, "I've never actually seen your back when you were really working it. I wasn't expecting so many moving parts. It was, um, fascinating. Did mine look like that?"

Jenny was about to answer, and Mel decided to cut her off, "Couldn't tell you. I saw you from the back, and Jenny from the front. But it looks like you've got enough room there for two people to go at the same time."

"Yeah," Jenny added, "Why so much bar?"


Rob rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he answered, "Well, I had this nice long bar, and it was a lot easier to drill holes through a few more rafters than it would have been to cut through that bar.  But Mel's right. We do sit-ups at the same time. No reason we can't do pull-ups at the same time."

"Well, there you have it. Up you go." She answered from the hay bale.

Rob looked a little confused, "Don't you have to come over here to see our backs?"

Jenny just rolled her eyes, turned around, and jumped back up.

"Oh." Rob said.

Mel watched as Rob stared up at his sister for a moment before following suit. See Rob? Mel thought, different view from the front.

Mel watched them do five before Rob said, "Well?"

"Yeah, there's definitely a lot of movement going on from both contestants. It's easier to see the movement on Rob's back. There's maybe a little more movement on Jenny's back—especially in the lats and shoulders." She paused there and let them go up and down a few more times. "When Rob goes up, it looks like everything is engaged at once. Jenny looks more like, well, Jenny looks different."

One of those differences was that Jenny's back had a couple of strings across it. The upper string looked fine. The lower was another story. There was barely enough string to tie it now, and every pull-up pulled it tighter. Mel smiled—she wasn't the only one who needed a new swimsuit.

They were at ten now. No one was counting out loud, but she was sure everyone was counting.

Eleven. A slow eleven, Jenny with ankles crossed and knees bent, Rob hanging straight.

Twelve. What would Jenny decide this time? Maybe she wouldn't get to make a decision on her second set? Could she do another? Mel could never squat as much on her second set.

Thirteen. Rob looked over at her, and she just smiled. Well, she obviously tried to smile. What actually came out was a little more like a grimace, but Rob seemed to understand.

They hung there at the bottom breathing hard for a few seconds, then started to pull again. It was slower. It was still fun to watch. Rob made it to the top and dropped to the floor. Jenny hung halfway for a bit before dropping too. No sound except the two of them breathing hard. Mel decided not to say anything.

Finally, Rob looks like he is about to say something to Jenny, stops, and then says, rather sternly, "No sandbagging."

Mel didn't know what to make of that, but evidently Jenny did. She said his name in a rush and threw her arms around him. Rob looked a little confused too, but managed to return the hug.

When Jenny finally released him, Rob looked Mel's way, gestured to the bar, and said, "Looks like you're up."

She managed to eek out her standard one pull-up, but it wasn't quite as difficult this time. Then they ran through what seemed like a normal workout further without incident. There was a fair amount of checking out of physiques that were no longer as hidden, but no more commentary was given.

They were about to start legs when Mr. Wilson called out from the Machine Shed, "Rob, can you come give me a hand in here?"

Rob grabbed his shirt and, after he pulled it over his head, looked at Mel and said, much like he was commenting on the weather, "You might want to get a new bikini before the pool opens."

Come on, Rob, Say something about your sister's. Mel tried to be as subtle as possible motioning toward Jenny with her head. Rob got it on the third try.

"Oh, yeah, and you too, Jenny." He added, but it was too little and, most likely, too late. One step forward, two steps back.

Rob turned to go as he pulled his shirt down the rest of the way. Then he paused, looking at his shirt. After a moment, he turned back toward them and actually stared right at the little triangles.

"Hey, why aren't your suits wet?" He sort of trailed off at the end, looked up at their faces, blushed,  and continued,

"Nevermind. I don't need to know."

[Sieming]

4. Jenny Has Those

On Monday, Mel found John leaning against a locker, arms crossed, laughing at something one of his friends had said. Mel waited for a lull, then stepped beside him.

"Hey," she said. "You ever arm wrestle?"

John glanced at her. "Sure. Why?"

Mel tilted her head slightly, voice playful. "I want to see how strong you are. Thought you might enjoy showing me."

He raised an eyebrow and thought of how Mel 'beat' Nate. "Why me?"

Mel smiled, her fingers tracing John's sleeve. "I've watched the arm wrestling at lunch. I'm curious how you'd do. Honestly, I know you'd beat me easily—so I want to see you arm wrestle Jenny."

John snorted. "Why would I want to do a thing like that?"

She moved in a little closer, dropping her voice. "No one's around. Just you and her. No crowds. No risks. Who knows, you might even impress me." She leaned into him with the last two words.

He looked over her proposals, considered them, then nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

Mel led him back toward the cafeteria. The lunch crowd was gone, just trays on tables and a couple of janitors in the distance.

Jenny sat alone at a back table, her face pensive.

"Look who I found," Mel said breezily, masking the real intent behind her easy tone: disassembling the egosystem.

Jenny's eyes widened. "You brought John?" He wasn't where she would have started. For one thing, he was entirely too dreamy, and he was pretty big—tall, at least. He had even been on a date with one of the twins from Rob's class—probably Rebecca, though Jenny could never tell them apart.

Mel smirked, stepping back. "I'll leave you to it." She gave John one last glance—appraising, appreciative—and then took a step back. John's eyes lingered on her for a moment before he slid smoothly into the seat across from Jenny, already rolling up his sleeves.

"You ready?" he asked.

Jenny hesitated—were those butterflies? She told herself to pull it together, then nodded. An idea came to her. "Show me what I'm up against first." Boys liked to show off for girls, right? She leaned back, arms crossed, aiming for casual, although her heart raced.

John nodded, rolled up his sleeve, revealing a reasonably nice bicep, the muscle tightening and swelling under his skin. He held the pose for a beat longer than necessary, a faint, confident smile playing on his lips. "You sure about this?" he asked.

Jenny, quite a bit more sure than she had been before he flexed, answered, "Let's find out," and placed her elbow on the table. The metal felt cold against her skin.

Once their hands met, John started squeezing. Was that a thing when guys arm wrestled? The girls hadn't been doing that. She squeezed back, matching his grip, her fingers wrapping around his, her palm pressing into his—not entirely unpleasant. John seemed a little surprised, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he smiled too. He counted them down, his voice steady. "Three. Two. One. GO!"

John pushed, slowly at first, but when nothing happened, he started pushing harder—a gradual increase in resistance as they felt each other out, no movement. She could feel the strength in his arm, the way he strained, the veins standing out on his forearm. Jenny felt like she could do this. She pushed, smiling a little as his arm started to lower, the muscles in her back and shoulders working in tandem, the table shifting slightly under their combined force.

John looked surprised, his eyes widening slightly as if he hadn't expected her to match his strength, much less push him down. John squeezed a little harder, and then he... did something. Jenny couldn't tell what. He suddenly got stronger. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed Jenny's arm toward the table, the muscles in his forearm and bicep engaging with renewed effort as he bore down. The metal table shifted again, their knuckles whitening as she fought to hold her ground. But his advantage was clear, and despite her best effort, her arm descended gradually until her hand slapped against the cool surface.

A clean win.

John let go and looked up at Mel expectantly.

Jenny sat back, stunned, her cheeks flushing with heat as frustration coiled in her stomach. "How did you do that?" she asked, breathless.

John just smiled and shrugged as he stood up. "With these," he said, flexing his biceps as he turned toward Mel.

"Jenny has those," Mel said to no one in particular.

Jenny sat there as they walked off. Was she too confident, or not as strong as she thought? If John beat her, what would happen when she faced Nate?

— — —

On Tuesday, it started with a look. A quick one, over Jenny's sandwich as Mel sauntered into the lunchroom, her grin just a bit too satisfied, her hips swinging with an extra confidence that made heads turn. She was followed—closely—by Jake, who had the kind of nervous, restless energy that made his fingers tap against his jeans. But his eyes immediately landed on her, as if she were a magnet and he were helpless.

"Got a minute?"

Jenny looked up from her half-eaten sandwich, eyebrow raised in automatic response to Mel's trouble-making vibes. The clatter of trays and drone of cafeteria conversations faded slightly as she focused on them.

Mel leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Jake wants to see if you're as good as I said." Her words were careful, leaving just enough unsaid to make Jenny's pulse quicken.

Jenny blinked. "How much did you tell him?" Her sandwich suddenly seemed less appealing as adrenaline started to hum under her skin.

"Only a little," Mel said, giving Jake a slow, knowing smile before turning back to Jenny. "Show her where."

Jake nodded toward the back exit of the cafeteria, away from prying eyes and the curious stares of their classmates. "Come on. It'll be quieter there." His voice was deeper than she expected, with a slight rasp that matched the anxious energy radiating from him.

Jenny glanced at Mel, who winked and strolled off in the opposite direction, toward the lunch line as if that had been her destination all along. Her sway was just a little more exaggerated than usual, a performance for anyone watching. She didn't look back.

Jake was the guy who had shown the most interest when the girls armwrestled at Table Three. At first, from a table or so away, his gaze was intense but distant. Lately, he'd come a little closer, his presence hovering at the edge of their conversations, as if he were working up the courage to approach. Now here he was, shifting his weight from foot to foot, running a hand through his sandy hair, waiting for her to follow him.

They ended up at one of the folding tables just outside the lunchroom doors. The hallway was empty, the buzz of school muted. Jenny dropped her bag on the ground with a soft thud and sat at the table, her fingers tracing the cool, smooth edge of the metal surface. She watched Jake's movements, noticing how his shoulders seemed too broad for his frame, and how his hands seemed restless.

Jake pulled a chair around and glanced up and down the hallway. His eyes darted, checking for teachers or curious onlookers. The fluorescent lights above them hummed a low, steady rhythm, a counterpoint to the distant murmur of the cafeteria. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur. "Are you ready?" he asked, his gaze meeting hers, a flicker of something—challenge? nerves?—in his eyes.

"Show me what I'm up against first," Jenny said again. This time, she wasn't just stroking an ego. He was a step down from John, but she wanted to judge if it was a big enough step.

Jake nodded and flexed, revealing something of a bicep; there was definitely something there, but not like John. Certainly not like Rob. But Jake seemed pretty proud of it. "Not bad, huh?" he asked, his voice a little eager now.

Jenny tried not to be overconfident this time: "Not bad at all." But her bicep looked like that before she started working out.

Jake started squeezing her hand, but this time she knew it was coming, and matched his grip, watching his eyes. He seemed surprised and maybe a little anxious, but he smiled too, and offered a quick, "Impressive. You ready to go?"

Jenny nodded, and he counted them down, his voice steady. "Three. Two. One. GO!" He started pushing right before he said, 'Go,' his arm moving right, trying to catch her off guard.

Jenny brought their arms to a stop at a slight disadvantage. She didn't complain about the start; she pushed harder—a gradual increase in pressure as they felt each other out, no more movement. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. This was more like it.

Jake didn't look surprised; his eyes narrowed, and he pushed harder, too. At the same time, his eyes from her face to her... chest? No, to her arm. He watched and strained as she moved their arms up to even, then he seemed to reach a decision. Something shifted in his expression—a flicker of calculation, a brief tightening of his jaw—and then he did... Something. In spurts and starts, Jake gained ground. His strength gradually increased until she couldn't hold him any longer.

No quick slap this time. Just an inevitable defeat.

Jake looked back up at her face before letting go slowly, his fingers lingering against hers too long before withdrawing. "You're strong. Almost had me." His voice was measured, but there was an edge to it—a hint of disappointment that seemed to contradict the words themselves, as though he'd wanted more of a fight.

Stunned, Jenny sat back, cheeks hot, frustrated at another unexpected loss. "What was that?" she demanded, disbelief sharp in her voice.

Jake shrugged, turning away as if the outcome had been inevitable. "Nothing special. I'm... Just a boy, I guess." He gestured vaguely at his own arm, but stayed seated at the table.

Jenny sighed and got up to head back to the cafeteria with a flushed face and a growing knot of frustration. Was he toying with me when we started? Was he that much stronger than Rob? He sure didn't look it. Just before she turned the corner, she looked back at Jake, still seated at the table, and called out, "Hey Jake, how many pull-ups can you do?"

Jake looked up and lied, "Ten, or so."

— — —

"I don't get it," Jenny said, her voice low and edged with frustration, her fork scraping against the cafeteria tray. "I can maybe believe that John is stronger than me, but Jake? Come on! He's all shoulders and no arms."

Mel nodded, thoughtfully swirling her Pepsi. "I didn't see Jake's bicep, but John didn't really have anything on you. His whole game was the surprise attack at the end." She paused. "And maybe just sitting there looking delicious."

"Ha! I think Jake would have fainted if I'd flexed, but I was a little flustered sitting there holding John's hand." Then Jenny added more thoughtfully, her brow furrowed, "Anyway, I know I'm stronger than Jake. I can do more pull-ups than he can."

Mel tilted her head, her dark hair falling across her shoulder. "You guys did pull-ups? Were your arms noodles again? Is that why you lost?"

Jenny answered automatically, "Nah, I just asked him afterwards how many he could do." She looked up suddenly, her eyes wide with dawning realization. "But I didn't have to ask him. I know I'm stronger than both of them. I saw it."

Mel leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "They beat you. Both of them. How can you know that now? It's physics, right? They beat you; they're stronger. End of story."

"I don't know if you noticed it, but the day everyone went gaga over your amazing ass? The first day, I beat Kara and Brenda armwrestling? That was the day we did maxes in PE. My totals were higher than everyone's. Not always in individual lifts, but the totals? That was all me." She paused, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. "I went back after school and checked the other periods too. I was so proud."

"Wow. Okay, I didn't realize. That's actually impressive—and even more confusing." Mel stared at her, genuinely baffled. "So how did they do it? What's the secret? Some kind of boy magic?"

Jenny nodded, thoughtful, her index finger tracing a water ring on the cafeteria table. "Maybe strength's only part of it—knowing how to move, where to position yourself—that might be the difference. I couldn't tell what they were doing when the boy magic kicked in, only that they were doing something different. Their whole bodies would shift just slightly, like a lock clicking into place. By then, it was too late." Jenny stared at the ceiling—replaying each match in her mind—the moment John's confidence wavered, the second Jake's wrist angle changed. She had been winning."I thought I had it. I really did. But it's like... I wasn't even playing the same game."

"Exactly," Mel said, her eyes narrowing as she connected the dots. "You were beating John, I could see it. His confidence was slipping. And then he just did something different, and 'boom!' boy magic engaged, and suddenly you were the one struggling. It was technique, not muscle."

Jenny let out a breath, the sound barely audible over the cafeteria's drone. "So what do I do? How do I even learn this? Is there a book? I can't just go around challenging guys and hoping to figure it out between humiliations."

Mel's tone softened, her usual mischief tempered by genuine concern for her friend. "Ask Rob. He's a guy. All guys know how to arm wrestle. It's like some kind of genetic memory they're born with, along with the ability to belch the alphabet and the instinct to stare at girls."

Jenny's eyes lit up at the suggestion, her frustration momentarily forgotten. Of course, Rob would help. Then her expression faltered, the enthusiasm dimming. "But what if I lose to him?" That would be one thing. But even worse---her voice softer now---"What if I beat him? I don't know if I'm ready for that. I don't know if he is." She traced patterns on the tabletop with her fingertip, avoiding Mel's gaze.

Mel winced. Of course, Jenny would think of Rob first. "You didn't have that problem with beating Jake or John." The words came out sharper than she intended.

Jenny looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "I didn't have to wonder if they'd still love me after I beat them." She looked surprised, like the words had come from someone else, like she hadn't realized the depth of her own feelings until they were hanging in the air between them.

Mel was quiet, the usual retort dying on her lips. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Jenny's. "We'll figure it out. Together."

Jenny nodded slowly, her mind working, her gaze distant. A flicker of an idea took hold, something that might solve both problems at once. "What if Rob trained you?"

Mel pretends to think as she threads her fingers through Jenny's and lifts their hands into position.

"Why?" Jenny asks.

"Because it'll kill you when I know which of you is stronger before you do."

Jenny bristles, but nothing comes out. She just meets Mel's eyes and starts to push.

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(Remember: your comments keep me writing.)
— — —
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[Sieming]

Chapter 5: Not Far From The Tree

The kitchen smelled like garlic and browning onions.

Steam rose from the cast-iron skillet where onions sizzled low and slow in butter; their edges just starting to turn golden-brown. A loaf of crusty sourdough sat ignored on the cutting board, a knife resting beside it. Dad moved the butter dish; its contents softened in the warmth radiating from the stove. Mom stirred the onions with one hand, the wooden spoon scraping against the bottom.

Through the window, Jenny and Mel crossed the yard beneath the sprawling walnut tree. Jenny moved with surprising grace, arms steady as she carried a 5-gallon water bucket in each hand. The water sloshed rhythmically. She kept a determined gait, even on the uneven ground. Sunlight glinted off the freckles dusting her shoulders. Mel walked beside her, carrying the conversation—their laughter faintly audible—while a bridle dangled from one hand like an afterthought.

Kent leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as he watched through the window. "She reminds me of you, Beth," he said lightly, his voice low as he handed off a handful of freshly snipped herbs to be chopped. The stems of rosemary released their woodsy fragrance as she took them. "When did she get a white bikini?"

Beth glanced up from her work, a small smile playing at her lips as she looked out the window; she didn't answer right away. She turned back to the sink, carefully washing the rosemary under the cool tap water. "Her bikini finally gave out last week," she said, as she patted the herbs dry with a dish towel. "She decided training bras would work until we can go shopping."

Kent, still looking out the window, tilted his head like he did when he was trying to figure out a problem that didn't make sense. "Her bikini... gave out?" He turned back to the loaf of bread, his brow furrowed with genuine confusion.

"Not like Mel's is about to give out, dirty old man. The strings on Jenny's pulled out of the cups while she was doing pull-ups."

"That must have been something. Did Rob get an eye-full?" Kent looked at her with a knowing smile as he went back to slicing the bread, the knife cutting through the crust with a satisfying crunch.

"'Eye-full' isn't exactly the word I would use." Beth's smile changed, her gaze drifting toward the window where the girls were still in view. "There's a reason she could switch from her bikini to training bras."

Dad laughed as he joined her at the window. "It's doing its job. Covers more than the bikini did."

Mom kept her attention on the onions. Their aroma filled the kitchen. "That job is easier than hauling water," she said, stirring. "She's keeping pace with Rob now."

He grunted, turning to grate the cheese. "Wasn't that long ago she couldn't lift a feed bag."

"She never stopped trying," Mom said, turning the onions so they browned more evenly. "That girl's got stubborn arms."

He nodded at that, "Like her mom."

They worked in silence for a moment. He finished grating the cheese and began sprinkling it over the onion mixture in the skillet, where it immediately began melting into stringy tendrils. She fitted the pie crust into the glass baking dish, her fingers pressing the edges against the sides with deliberate, gentle pressure. Through the window, the girls had reached the barn.

Then Mom said, "She looks like his older sister now." Her eyes remained fixed on the pie crust.

"I've noticed." His voice was low and thoughtful as he watched the melted cheese begin to bubble and blend with the onions. "He's going to have to figure that out for himself."

"She's got him in height now. Wider, too—maybe. She could be the older sister." Mom's movements were deliberate, pouring in the pie filling. "Except—" She trailed off, not finishing the thought, her gaze shifting briefly to the window where the girls had just disappeared into the barn.

He glanced over, his expression softening as he followed her line of sight. "Except the training bras?"

Mom raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned away from the counter, wiping her hands on the dish towel. "You said it."

He smiled, "Just reading your mind." The kitchen settled back into its comfortable quiet as he took the cheesy onion concoction from the stove. The girls were headed back toward the house. Mel had empty buckets, too. Good for Mel.

Beth bumped him gently with her hip, still smiling, "Mel's become quite impressive this year."

He laughed, "Yeah, she's grown up fast."

She met his eyes, "You think they've gone skinny dipping this year?"

He paused mid-motion, hand hovering near the olive oil bottle, his knuckles brushing against the cool glass. "Wouldn't surprise me. When they're not in the barn, they're down at the pond."

She watched him for a moment. He smiled, a far-off look in his eye as he stared out the window—the olive oil forgotten in his hand.

Without a word, she grabbed the wet towel and threw it at his head. The towel unfurled mid-air and landed squarely across his face. Startled, he sputtered for a moment before pulling it away, a slow chuckle rumbling in his chest. "What was that for?"

"Picturing Mel skinny dipping." But she was smiling and sticking out her chest, so he knew he was safe.

He shrugged, draping the towel over his shoulder where it left a dark patch. "I was thinking about skinny dipping. About fourteen years ago. Different girl, though." He paused, then added quietly,

"She reminds me of you."

Beth blushed as she minced the garlic. Kent reached past her to turn off the stove, he left his arm around her waist.

The girls were heading back to the barn now. Mel's buckets weren't as full.

Dad got a jar of stewed tomatoes out of the top cabinet and twisted while Mom took the wet towel from his shoulder and wiped down the counter.

He handed her the jar. She twisted once and passed it back

[Sieming]

Author's Note:

ChatGPT was positively indignant that I wasn't following my style guide when I asked it about this chapter. I was using too much flowery prose. I pointed out that the style guide was there so that when I asked it for options it would follow my style, not so that I couldn't write any way I wanted. ChatGPT maintained that it sounded more like culinary literature than a coming of age story. I said that different chapters could feel different, especially if they were introducing new characters. Then I showed it a future chapter with talking animals. ChatGPT was having none of it though, and I finally started a new project with summaries of all of the current chapters. It's annoying to do that, but a fact of AI life that all conversations get weird after a while.

Kent and Beth aren't precisely "new" characters. You saw them for the first time at Mel's parent's Christmas party in Book 1.  They will pop up again from time to time. There were a couple of things I wanted to have them establish in this chapter. I worried that I was too subtle, but, ultimately, if you've read this far, I have to trust that you're a pretty astute reader. 

[Sieming]

=== Chapter 6: Boy Magic ===

Rob checked gate chain and gave the nearest steer a quick scratch along the neck. Winston snorted and shifted its weight, hide twitching under his fingers. They'd put on a lot of weight since March. Regulus more than Winston. But there wasn't really anything he could do about that. Both steers were about the same size when They'd picked them out. Jenny just got lucky.

He liked this part. Feed, water, scrape, repeat. The rhythm was simple. They were using Cricket to lead them now, but they were both pretty well halter broke. Regulus still pulled a little if you gave him his head.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside the barn.

"Hey!" Mel's voice came a moment before she stepped through the sliding door. Sunlight followed her in a strip that stopped at the concrete.

"Jenny's still at swim practice," Rob said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Mel shook her head, hair pulled up in some kind of knot that still managed to look like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. "I know. I'm actually here for you."

Rob blinked. "For... me?"

"Don't sound so shocked." She came a little closer, eyeing the steers, then him. "I need help. Arm wrestling help."

Rob leaned his elbows on the top rail and raised his eyebrows.

Mel wrinkled her nose. "I lost to Jenny in, like, half a second. I didn't like that."

He gave her an appraising look, "I'm not sure I'm a good enough coach to help you beat Jenny. Maybe at leg wrestling."

Mel shrugged, "I don't need to beat her. I just don't want to look like a child when it comes up again."

"What makes you think it's going to come up again? It's not like I'm going to dare you to do it again."

Not that he wouldn't mind, but he was pretty sure that was against protocol.

"We've, um, been arm wrestling at school. It's a little hierarchy thing, and I don't like to be at the bottom of a hierarchy. Any hierarchy." Mel was surprised to be telling so much of the truth.

Rob could understand that. Arm wrestling was a big part of the reason he'd started working out in the first place. It was surprising to hear something similar coming from Mel. "When were you thinking? Honestly, it shouldn't take that long."

She lifted one shoulder. "I've got a window until dinner. If you're not too busy, O Great Keeper of Steers."

He glanced at the water trough. Everyone was fed. Everyone was watered. Everyone was chewing. "Yeah. I can do now." He pushed off the rail. "Let's use the Tack Room. I'm assuming this is top secret?"

"Of course," Mel answered as they cut across the barn—Cricket flicked an ear at them when they passed her stall, like they were interrupting a nap—and they ducked into the small square room off the main aisle. Old hooks for harnesses still lined the walls, but most of them held halters or coils of rope now. Tack for one horse didn't need much space.

The floor was real wood here, not dust and packed dirt. Their blanket sat folded in the corner where he'd left it yesterday, actually sort of clean from its surprise trip through the washer. He glad he'd gotten around to that chore.

Mel nudged the blanket with her toe. "This the dojo?"

"High-end training facility," Rob said. "State-of-the-art. Let's start off by seeing where you're at now."

She laughed and helped him spread the blanket out. It was big enough for the two of them to lie down across from each other with rug showing on either side. Mel flopped down on her stomach at one end, propping herself up on her elbows and waited. Rob mirrored her on the other side, there faces a foot or so apart. He held out his hand.

Mel slid her fingers into his. Her palm was warm and Rob was suddenly aware that his was a little damp. They adjusted until their thumbs locked and their wrists were straight.

"So," Rob said. "Guys will usually do a quick grip test. Not to crush each other's hands—unless they're jerks. You squeeze till the other guy lets up, then you let up. Sort of... mutually assured respect."

"Got it," she said. "No jerks." Mel gave his hand a testing squeeze. He squeezed back, matching her. Rob went a little harder, and so did she. When she let up, he did as well.

He nodded, suddenly aware that from this angle, her tank top wasn't really doing the same job it did when they were vertical. Her chest was kind of pushed down and spread out against the blanket. It was impressive, but probably wouldn't help against Jenny.

"Let's see what you already know," he said. "Elbows in. Shoulder over your hand as much as you can."

She tucked in her elbow, dug it into the blanket, leaned in. That really exposed some cleavage.

"Ready?" he asked, trying hard to maintain eye contact.

Mel smirked. "Hit me."

He counted them down. "Three, two, one—go."

She pushed hard right at the start, straight on, that was good. but her wrist was a little shaky; her shoulder was too far back; only pushing with her arm. He rode it out, tightened his own shoulder, let her burn some juice in the wrong direction. When he noticed he was concentrating more on her form than her technique, he gave a little more and their hands went to the blanket.

"Okay," Mel said, blowing out a breath. "So that's... not it."

"But it was useful. I saw a lot of things that you can easily improve." Then he blushed a little, "I also saw, um, a lot... Let's just say that if we stay on the floor, you're going to start beating me the way you beat Nate," Rob said. "We should find a table. You're going to be wrestling at tables at school, right."

Mel's head snapped up. "Does everyone know about that?"

"I don't know about everyone." He rolled over "While we were doing push-ups Jenny said something about beating Nate her own way. I asked what she meant. The story just flowed from there."

Mel stared at him for a second, then huffed a short laugh. "Yes, in answer to your question. We will be arm wrestling at tables at school. Sorry about the show."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he went practical. "The show was fine; just a little distracting. There's a table in the machine shed."

— — —

Rob gestured toward the door, and Mel made sure she was in front of him before she smiled. No sense letting him know he'd managed to say the right thing to a girl. Well, the right thing to her, anyway. That could easily have missed the mark with someone else. Rob probably knew her well enough to know that too.

The machine shed was just across the barn yard.

"We always pretty much had free run of the barn," Rob said, as he opened the little door. "But the machine shed was off limits without Dad or Mom. Apparently you can risk getting trampled by a thousand pounds of steer, but not bump a fender on a fifty-thousand dollar tractor."

"Seems reasonable," Mel said, following him in. "I'd rather get stepped on than owe your dad a tractor."

The translucent panels in the roof were enough light to get to the workshop. There were a couple of tables to chose from, but not that many chairs. He moved one in position for Mel and then pulled a bench around to the opposite side of the table.

They clasped hands again.

"Better?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know about better. Less distracting."

Wow, Rob was two for two. She was going to have to up her game. She arched a brow. "Aren't you supposed to be squeezing? This seems a lot like holding hands."

Heat crept up the side of his neck, and he squeezed, gently at first, then firmer, as she answered with her own.

"Okay," he said. "Start from neutral. Wrist straight. Get your shoulder closer." He reached over with his free hand and tapped the air where her shoulder should move. "You want your body stacked behind your hand, not trailing along for the ride. Try to keep everything in alignment too. Hand, wrist, arm, shoulder, torso, head; it's all one unit."

Mel scooted her chair in, rolled her shoulder forward until it hovered near her knuckles.

"Like that?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said. "That's actually great. If you can get your opponent to lean across the table while you're more upright, that will be a huge advantage. The boys all know that, but the girls probably don't." She was sure that the girls had no idea. Rob continued, "Now when I say go, don't just push. Hook a little—pull my arm toward you as you go down. Your lats are stronger than your triceps."

Mel did have some lats—even some shoulders—left over from when she was on the swim team. Nice to know they would still come in handy.

He counted them in again. "Three, two, one—go."

This time she didn't throw everything at it in the first microsecond. She set, then pulled and pushed together. Her shoulder felt different though, more connected. She could tell that he had to work harder  to stop her hand halfway.

"Better," he said. "Do it again, but this time turn your torso as you pull. You'll engage your core, and, um, run into less  resistance." Rob looked a little distracted again.

She repeated the motion while looking down and saw what he meant. It couldn't have been a lot of added resistance, but they were surprisingly firm, or so she'd been told. It certainly pushed them together. Am I still just your little sister's friend, Rob?

They did small reps. Little starts. He'd let her get a few inches of advantage, then tell her to reset. He corrected her wrist, nudged her elbow back onto the invisible line under her shoulder when it drifted. When he moved her thigh into position, she flexed—just a little. He smiled—just a little.

She learned fast. Rob was a surprisingly good coach, and she was better at sports than people would think from looking at her, at least with her sweats on.

— — —

Rob was surprised at how fast she picked everything up. He knew she did swimming with Jenny, and now track, but seeing her translate tiny adjustments into better leverage in real time scratched an itch he hadn't known he had. He liked this. Liked explaining. Liked seeing it click.

"Okay," he said eventually, rolling his shoulders. "Final exam. See how you'll do against Jenny. I'll forget any kind of technique and just push."

Mel flexed her fingers once, shook out her wrist, then set her elbow and offered her hand. He took it.

They squeezed, set, waited.

"Three, two, one—go."

She came out clean. No wasted motion. Her shoulder was in the right place, wrist rotated just enough to put the pressure where she wanted it. She pulled and pushed together, whole body in it.

Rob held her.

For a moment, it could have gone either way. Their hands wobbled in the middle, tendons standing out on both their forearms. He felt her adjust—tiny, careful, using what he'd shown her—and he had to dig in hard to keep her from gaining. And, maybe if he was being completely honest, he liked seeing her like this, being the focus of her attention, the feel of her hand in his.

He couldn't comfortably put her down. He also couldn't honestly say she was losing. He must be a pretty good coach. But he didn't want to lose to Mel. He put everything he had into it, and maybe rotated her wrist just a smidge.

After a long, tight second, he moved her knuckles to the wood.

Mel's breath came out in a whoosh. She grinned, cheeks flushed. "So?"

"So you're going to give any girl a real problem, even Jenny," he said.

She seemed to absorb that, then glanced down at their still-linked hands. "Who's stronger? You or Jenny?"

He hesitated. His first instinct was to say that he was, but it wasn't that simple anymore.

"I can do more pull-ups," he said finally. "Push-ups, too, but that's closer. For now, anyway." He shifted in his chair. "Her legs are probably stronger. She's got all the horse stuff and swimming. Not as strong as your legs, of course."

Mel's eyes flicked to his, then away. "Track's been good for mine," she said, sliding their hands apart and resting her forearm on the table. "Coach thinks I've got a shot at state if I can keep improving."

"That's... really impressive," Rob said. "For your first year."

"Yeah." She hooked a thumb under the strap of her sports bra through her shirt and snapped it lightly. "Just gotta get everything to stay put while I run. The girls 'Yentil' me up before meets."

He blinked. "They Yentil you? Like the movie?"

She didn't answer him, just waited.

"Oh! Like the movie." He somehow managed to maintain eye contact when he said it.

She pushed back from the table and stood, stretching her arms over her head until her shirt rode up a little at the waist. "Thanks," she said. It was softer this time. Less show, more real. "Really."

She stepped around the table and leaned in for a hug. Just arms around his shoulders, a quick squeeze. Almost tentative. It was nice. He hugged back on instinct. She felt... nice. Very different from Jenny.

When she pulled away, he asked, "Who's your first victim going to be?" It sounded lame out loud.

"Jenny." Mel said as she turned around. "Might as well start at the top."

Of course Jenny was at the top. He wouldn't mind seeing that rematch.

Rob stood there for a second, flexing his hand remembering her grip and the feel of her hand in his. He watched her walk up the lane; did her hips always move like that? Then he shook himself, closed the shed door, and went to check on the steers.

He probably should have offered her a ride home.

[Sieming]

===Chapter 6: Author's Note===

Practically everything changed in the rewrite of this chapter. Location, Matches, Winners/Losers. All of that got shuffled around, and the chapter ballooned from 1100 words to 4600 words in the process. The one thing that the chapter now does that wasn't there before was strengthening the weakest leg of the romantic triangle. You can decide which one that was. Other than that, the motivations are more obvious in this new version. If you want to see the old version, just let me know. Oh, and it got a new title along the way. Chapter 2.6 was formerly, "Techniques". The new title seems to capture things much better.

Then I split it up into 2 different chapters (that's why this one is 2300 words, and not the 4600 words above), and made the ending a little less corny

If you liked this chapter, please leave a comment below.
(Remember: your comments keep me writing.)
— — —
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[taoschild]

Cute interpersonal chemistry between them. Nice slow burn.

[Sieming]

===Chapter 7. Girl Magic===

Jenny was at the dining table with science spread out in front of her when Mel came through the back door.

She heard Mel come in, but finished one more problem before she asked. "Who's stronger? Me or Rob?"

Mel blinked. "Hi to you too."

She finally looked up, arms folded on the table, expression intent. "Well?" She couldn't really say why this was so important to her, just that it was.

Mel dropped into the seat across from her. "Depends on what you mean. First time we did it, you took me down quicker. But Rob might've been a little... distracted."

Jenny raised an eyebrow. "Distracted how?" Rob wasn't usually as susceptible to Mel's distractions as other boys..

Mel flicked her hand like that wasn't important. "Not the point. We did a clean one at the end without Rob using any boy magic. So let's try it before you learn any boy magic and see where you stand."

Jenny closed her textbook. "That makes sense."

They cleared off the table, but it was too wide. The kitchen peninsula was just about perfect.

"There any rules?" Jenny asked.

"Don't embarrass me," Mel said, but she seemed oddly confident.

Jenny smirked. "No promises."

Jenny reached across the counter, and they clasped hands. Mel adjusted once—small, efficient—already applying something new. Mel counted them down.

"Three, two, one—go."

Jenny slowly increased the pressure, but Mel was already turning her torso, already doing something with her legs. At least she could tell something was happening this time, and Jenny felt the force immediately. It surprised her coming from Mel. Jenny dug deep. Jake had beaten her like this—steady, deliberate, patient—but Jake hadn't had Mel's legs behind him.

A few seconds in, Jenny realized she was losing the same way she had to Jake. Fighting uphill. Mel's hand angle pushed hers just a bit off neutral and held her there, the same "click" moment she'd described in the cafeteria.

Jenny gritted her teeth and poured everything she had into it. And that was that. Jenny's knuckles kissed the linoleum "Okay," Jenny breathed, shaking out her hand.

Mel exhaled like she'd been underwater. "Good. Good-good-good." She was clearly relieved. "Boy magic is real. The boys didn't have to be stronger."

Jenny stared at where their hands had been, working through the implications. "How do I compare to Rob?"

Mel sat back on her heels. "I couldn't beat Rob."

Jenny's shoulders fell before she could catch herself. Mel saw it.

"But," Mel added quickly, "Look on the bright side? You're probably safe to arm wrestle him."

Jenny blinked. "Safe?"

Mel nodded. "Like... you probably won't beat him by accident."

Jenny wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. They were both problematic.

Mel pushed up to her feet. "Okay. Let's get to work."

Mel walked Jenny through what she'd picked up yesterday—where to put your shoulder, how to tilt your wrist, when to pull instead of just shoving, how to get your whole body in on the match instead of just your arm.

Jenny listened intently. Jenny always listened hard, but here she was near-silent. Mel could see it in her face—the math brain turning the boy magic over, checking it from every angle.

Jenny's first couple attempts were jerky. Too much strength, not enough structure. Mel corrected her elbow. Jenny corrected her own shoulder. Mel explained the hook. Jenny tweaked it before Mel finished the sentence.

After about an hour, Mel sat back. "You're getting this. Faster than I did. I can't see anything else you're missing. Real match? Put it all together?"

Jenny nodded. This time, when they clasped hands, Jenny increased the pressure until Mel had to relax her grip. She knew better now. The boys hadn't had any respect for her right from the start.

"Three, two, one—go."

Jenny came in smart. She didn't push; she moved Mel's arm into a weak line first and then tightened. Mel's hand moved toward the counter. Then she did something with her legs, and stopped them. Their hands hovered just off center for a few hard seconds. Jenny kept all of the boy magic in mind, then twisted and pulled with everything she had.

Mel's hand went down. Mel's hand went down slower than Jenny expected. Much slower than Mel expected.

Mel flexed her hand open and closed. "Okay. So, think back to your matches with the boys. Did they beat you faster, slower, or about the same as you just beat me?"

Jenny looked up. "Our match took longer than either of those. I don't suppose you're stronger than them?"

"Hmm," Mel thought. "My legs maybe."

Jenny looked... conflicted. "It wasn't nothing."

"No," Mel agreed. "It definitely wasn't nothing. Maybe you need a little more practice?"

They tried it a few more times, with more or less the same results.

Finally Mel leaned her elbows on the table. "Rob wanted to see us arm wrestle."

Jenny's head snapped up. "He did?"

Mel shrugged, like it was no big deal. "He didn't say it exactly, but I could tell."

Jenny's cheeks warmed. "Rob wants to see how strong I am."

Mel smiled, then shrugged, "Sure."

Jenny ran her thumb over the countertop, thinking. Mel could see the hope there. The fear there. The math there.

"Why don't we just go ask him for pointers?" Mel said. "Grant his wish."

Jenny swallowed. She looked both terrified and determined. "Okay."

Mel grabbed her hand and tugged her up. "Let's go before you chicken out."

Jenny didn't argue.

— — —

Rob pulled out Astoroids, blew a bit of dust off Space Invaders and pushed the cartridge into the slot. He had just sat down cross-legged in front of the TV, when he heard the girls coming down the stairs.

Mel first. Then Jenny. That was almost always the way it was, and rarely a good sign. He decided to keep playing.

Jenny didn't say anything—she just tugged the coffee table an inch closer to the middle of the room, rolled up her sleeves, and set her elbow down. Mel mirrored her on the opposite side minus the sleeve roll.They clasped hands across the coffee table.

Rob forgot entirely about Space Invaders.

"Okay," Mel said. "Ready?"

Jenny nodded.

"Three, two, one—go."

After thirty seconds Rob finally blinked. "Mel taught you well."

"She said the same about you."

Mel shot him a grin. "She insisted. After I beat her."

Rob almost said You beat Jenny? Then remembered he'd barely beaten Mel himself yesterday when he was just pushing. He kept that to himself as well. Probably wise. Their match was getting intense, Jenny's arm bulged in exactly the same way Mel's didn't.

They ground through a few more seconds of effort—Jenny's face focused and bright, Mel's expression equal parts determination and smug instructor—before Jenny slowly, carefully, brought Mel's hand down.

Mel shook out her wrist. Jenny did the same, then looked at Rob. "Do you have any more pointers?"

Rob leaned back on his hands. "For what? Who's going to beat you? Brenda?"

Mel and Jenny shared a look. The guilty kind.

Jenny said, "We might've... not told you the whole thing."

Rob raised an eyebrow.

Mel sighed. "We're trying to beat the boys."

Rob let that sit for a second. Then shrugged. "Why would I have a problem with you beating other boys."

Jenny breathed out forcefully. Had she been holding her breath?

Mel visibly relaxed too.

Rob stretched his hand out toward them. "Let me see what you can do first."

He set his elbow down at the edge of the coffee table. Jenny took her spot across from him, but refused to lean over to his side. He nodded, and moved toward the center. She squeezed, and he matched her grip. She squeezed harder and so did he. He added a little more and she matched him. That was it, that was all he had, and he was about to very reluctantly back off when Jenny suddenly did. Whew.

"Three, two, one—go."

Jenny came in quick. No hesitation. She moved his wrist off neutral so fast he had to dig deep early. Her shoulder was over her hand, textbook. Her wrist angle was perfect.

Rob held her.

Jenny's eyes flicked up—just once—as if checking whether he was actually trying.

He was. He was also completely locked in on her bicep.

He rotated his shoulder and pushed harder, made a couple of other adjustments, seemed to lose ground just briefly, then slowly put her hand down. He blew out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Jenny blinked. Her face surprised, then he saw respect, and a tiny bit of frustration. "Stronger than John," she murmured. "Maybe by a lot."

Rob needed to hear that after how close their match was. He kind of regretted and was strangely excited about what he was going to do next as he turned to Mel, "I was thinking a lot about our training yesterday, and I've got a half dozen more things to show you. Nothing Earth shattering, but they all add up. I'll go through them, and let you try them out on me. That should be good practice for the boys in your year."

He worked down the little checklist in his head, explaining each trick, then letting them try it out against him—first Mel, then Jenny. 

They picked it up fast; by the second or third try, both of them were making adjustments on their own. It was fun comparing them one after the other, over and over, but with each new technique he was finding it harder and to pin their hands to the table. And sometimes they would want to try it again.

"Okay," Rob said finally. "That's all I know. Final match, just to see where you both are."

Mel and Jenny exchanged oddly determined looks and immediately positioned themselves across the coffee table again.

"No," Rob said. "With me. For real this time."

Mel sat opposite him, expression bright and competitive. "Loser does winner's laundry."

Rob snorted. "Fine." He wasn't planning on losing, but he did wonder how those things worked, just from a structural standpoint.

They clasped hands. Mel started to lean over a little more than was strictly necessary. However they worked, they were effective. Jenny gave Mel a look, and she straightened up with a, "What?".

Rob won, but it wasn't easy. Mel looked pleased. Rob flexed his hand and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he still had Jenny to deal with next.

Jenny sat down across from him. Oddly, she looked a little worried too.

"Three, two, one—go."

Their hands stayed dead center, trembling with effort.

Jenny's hair slipped forward across her cheek.

Rob's shoulder burned.

He watched her bicep bulge.

He switched from winning to not losing.

"You really learn fast," he said, teeth gritted.

"Thanks," Jenny said through hers. "But you've had like... twice as many matches as either of us."

Mel groaned. "This is a math free zone."

Jenny's breath shook. "You're too good a coach. Think I can out last you?"

Rob laughed once, then put everything he had into a final push

"Draw?" Rob asked.

Jenny froze. "That's a thing?"

"It happens," Rob said.

"Yeah. Draw."

Rob thought she would have said it grudgingly—if she agreed at all, but she seemed as relieved as he was. They both let go at the same time—slowly, carefully—and Rob leaned back, swallowing air. "You two are pretty amazing," he said as they stood. "And, Jenny, I take two-to-one odds for you beating any guy in your year." Except maybe Nate, he added to himself. Rob wasn't sure he could beat Nate.

— — —

"Really? Thank you, Robbie," Jenny beamed, voice warm with appreciation. She stepped forward, almost instinctively, and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek. At least, that was the plan.

Mel watched the whole thing unfold from the couch, knowing exactly what was coming. She could practically hear the slow drumroll in her head as Jenny's lips, flush with gratitude, moved toward Rob's cheek.

But then it hit her—accidental kiss trope. She could actually make one happen! Shoot.  She was too far away for the classic shoulder tap. Her eyes lowered in disappointment. That's when it hit her. She had two other options. She straightened—shoulders back, chest out, deep breath. Just to be sure, she undid a button. Come on, Rob, just this once.

— — —

Out of the corner of his eye, something shifted.

Mel straightened on the couch. Wow, were they always that big? He knew they were large, but something was different—good different. Oh, she lost a button.  She'd want to know that. He turned toward her, mouth starting to open.

"Hey, Mel—"

Jenny's lips landed full on his.

For a second, everything crashed together then stopped—the long forgotten Space Invaders, the hum of the house, Jenny's biceps—as his brain tried to shift gears and slipped into neutral.

Her mouth was warm and a little damp from where she'd licked her lips before speaking. They froze halfway through the impossible kiss, breath held, lips open, tongues not quite touching. His brain, struggling back to life, and didn't seem to know how to pull away.

Then she jerked back like she'd touched a live wire. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes were huge, pupils wide, a fierce red rising under the spray of freckles on her cheeks.

"I... Thank you," she managed, the words tangled and breathy.Then she was gone—up the stairs in long, frantic strides, socked feet barely making a sound, pulling the air out of the room in her wake.

Rob still hadn't moved.

His lips felt strange. Not wrong, exactly. Just... like she had left something there and he couldn't un-feel it. His heart hammered higher in his chest than it had during any of their matches. The part of his brain that kept score trying to file what had happened under something—win, lose, fluke, foul—but there wasn't a column for it.

"Wow," Mel said softly. "That... was something."

He turned toward her finally. Her shoulders were still back, she let out a breath that looked like she'd been holding it for a week, the button on her shirt was undone, not lost.

"You can, uh..." He gestured vaguely at her chest, "You can put those away now. Mission accomplished, I guess."

Mel flushed, first with pride, and then, was that embarrassment? She gave a lopsided shrug. "Accidental kiss trope?"

Rob raised his eyebrows. "Accidental kiss trope," he repeated, as if confirming it for the record. His voice flat. His mind still on Jenny's lips.

Not exactly how he'd pictured his first kiss.

[Sieming]

8. Secrets

He wasn't sure how much longer Jenny would admire him as her big brother. Still, he recognized a big brother moment when he saw one. He gave her space the rest of the day. Their best talks unfolded in the evenings. The hallway was dim except for a wedge of light from her half-open door. Rob padded past barefoot, gripping a glass of water. He was about to knock—this felt like a knocking conversation—when a noise from her room made him freeze.

Soft thuds. Floor creaks in rhythm.

He paused beside the doorframe.

Jenny was doing pushups without him. Her body moved in slow, deliberate lines. Feet braced on a low chair. Arms spread. Chest grazing the floor with each repetition. She didn't see him. Her hair hung in front of her face.

Rob stayed still, uncertain—this was new. They'd never done pushups like that before, and while he was getting used to Jenny working out in her bras, he still found it fascinating to watch.

After a minute, she shifted to incline pushups against the edge of her desk. Shoulders quivered. Her breath was measured. Rob tilted his head, puzzled. He'd never seen that form before, either. Strange.

Then she dropped to her knees, sat up straight, and pressed her palms together in front of her chest.

She squeezed.

Held.

Relaxed.

Squeezed again.

Rob blinked. The motion was familiar. It would have been cartoonish if she weren't so intent. He heard Mel's voice sing-song in his head: We must, we must, we must increase our bust.

Did that work? He watched for a while—the lighting, the view from the mirror, it would make a good photo, but there was no one he could share it with. He remembered when they didn't have any secrets, but could understand how she felt. Not so different from him. He finally stepped back from the doorway. He could talk to her about the kiss tomorrow.

Rob's room was cool and quiet. The glass of water sat untouched on the desk.

He reached under his bed. Pulled out the milk jug filled with water. He started curling. 

Up. Down. It was probably too easy. Heavy enough before; now almost boring. Up. Down. Up. Down.

His thoughts wandered across the hall to Jenny's room. The jokes about Mel, about Jenny's bikini, and now her bra. They weren't really jokes. And those exercises? Definitely no joke. That was someone trying to fix something that they thought was wrong.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

He knew that feeling.

He looked down at his arms, at his makeshift dumbbell.

They were doing the same thing. He raised the milk jug slower now, watching his bicep in the mirror.

"We didn't use to hide stuff," he said under his breath, curling the jug. For a moment, he missed how things were before secrets. He needed real dumbbells; he still wanted to be her big brother.

When he couldn't lift his arms any longer, he got down on the floor and did Russian Twists and Bicycle Crunches. He'd added those about a week or so ago. Coach said they would strengthen his abs and obliques. He hadn't told coach why he needed a stronger core.

When he finally crawled into bed, he dug out The Book of Challenges and flipped through until he found the entry he was looking for. He stared at it for a long time before first crossing it out. After another pause, he added an asterisk.

— — —

Jenny had swim practice, so Rob warmed up in the barn without her. He'd mostly worked out what he wanted to say to her, but had no idea how to bring it up. Then a different thought occurred to him.

Rob brought a few hay bales down from the loft and arranged them end to end, about two feet apart. He tried it out, but it wasn't quite stable enough for his hands. An old piece of wood on each bale took care of that. He was on his fifth rep when Jenny walked in.

Jenny was looking at him funny, so he jumped right in, "I was getting bored with our push-ups, so I thought I'd spice things up a little bit. I know it looks a little janky, but it works well enough, and you can use them either way. Look."

This time, he put his feet on the bales and his hands on the floor. He sure hoped this worked. Up and down. He did five reps. These were harder. Maybe this hadn't been a great idea. "What do you think?"

Jenny watched him get back to his feet before replying, "Sure, I guess. I'm up for something new. Why don't you show me how this works?" Jenny positioned a hand on each bale. Was she smiling? "What would you think about moving the bales a little further apart?"

"Um, sure," Rob answered as they repositioned the bales.

When Jenny was back in position, Rob put a hand on her shoulder, "Now, you want to make sure you go down low enough—yeah, like that." Rob left his hand in place for another rep. When Jenny was coming back up, he spoke. "Hey," he said, voice quieter. "About that kiss? I know it wasn't what you intended."

Jenny stopped at the top of the push-up. She didn't answer.

Rob's hand–still on her shoulder– felt her tense up.

"But I didn't mind," he said, the memory of her lips brushing up again in his mind.

And then he felt her relax, but she didn't reply right away.

It was obvious that she'd done these before, and it was obvious that she was better at them than he was. At least she didn't keep that secret.

Jenny finished her set and stood—wiping her forehead with the back of her arm. Then she tugged off her shirt and tossed it onto a hay bale just like normal. Only then did she look at him.

She gave him the slightest smile and put her hands on her hips.

"How do you know what I intended, Robert Anson Wilson?"

Then she turned, jumped up to the pull-up bar, and started her first rep.

Rob was still standing there on her third pull-up before his brain caught up enough for him to take off his shirt and join her.

== Author's note 2.8 ==

Everybody has their secrets, and we get to see a little bit more into the minds of Jenny and Rob. Jenny's "Secret" will play a prominent role in this book. You may have already picked up on that.

There's a little bit of resolution on the "Accidental Kiss Trope" here, but I'm not so sure either one of them knows what the other one really meant.

Jenny has called Rob by a number of different names up to this point, but I believe this is the first time she's used his full name.

[Sieming]

9. A Nice, Safe Ride

Jenny clomped down the lane in borrowed cowboy boots and a hat that felt too big for her head. She didn't own boots or a hat. Luckily, Mel did. Why Mel even had them was a mystery—nobody around here dressed like that—but they fit well enough for today.

Rob had been buzzing about his first "shoot" for a month. If he wasn't going to let a little thing like getting kissed by his sister get in the way, then she would do her part, too. At least he had the good grace to first tell her it wasn't a big deal, and then never, ever, ever bring it up again. Anyway, if he could place third at the fair with that little 110 and a lucky shot of her and Cricket, maybe he was a real photographer. She was a little flattered that he asked her to be the subject. Of course, it was her horse. He wanted beach and surf, the kind of thing you saw in magazines. They didn't have a beach. But they did have a creek, and Rob thought that was close enough.

Jenny wished Mel could come too, but she had a track meet. There were a lot of track meets lately. On second thought, having Mel around didn't exactly guarantee that the kiss wouldn't come up.

From what she knew about "the shoot", she would be bareback on the creek, so there was no real sense in putting a saddle on Cricket just for the ride out.

When Rob arrived, he looked at the saddle off to the side, and opened his mouth, but she leaned down, offering her hand. "Come on. We don't have all day."

He hesitated, then grabbed on. She hauled him up behind her with a grunt, his weight settling against her back. Cricket shifted under them but held steady.

Jenny nudged the mare forward, out of the barn and down the pond road. The creek lay beyond, shaded and cool. For fun, she clicked her tongue and brought Cricket into a trot. Rob's hands went around her waist, tentative at first, then firmer as he bounced against her back.

She smirked to herself. Then gave Cricket her heels. The mare surged into a gallop. With his left hand, Rob reached around her and held to the area between her waist and her chest, pulling himself close as they thundered down the lane. He raised up as she leaned over and grabbed her shoulder with his right hand.

When Cricket lunged into a gallop, Jenny's body answered. But it was different with Rob pulling himself tight against her. The first strides snapped her hips up, then down, setting the rhythm deep in her core. Every bump of the mare's back pushed into her, a steady, pulsing drive she had to ride with or be thrown.

Her thighs clamped hard around Cricket's sides, the muscles firing fast. She pulled her stomach tight, fighting to stay in balance, but there was no escaping the motion. It rocked through her hips, over and over, relentless.

Rob's arms slipped lower as he leaned into her. His chest thudded against her back in time with the horse's stride. The two forces overlapped — the mare driving up from beneath, Rob holding on from behind — until Jenny couldn't tell which pressure was which. Heat in her legs, pressure at her hips, the rhythm drumming through all of it.

She was aware of everything at once: the slick of sweat at her thighs, the sting in her core, the strange, low ache from the constant grind of motion. And Rob — his breath rough at her shoulder, his grip shifting when she jolted harder than expected. Each time he adjusted, it was an echo of Cricket from the other direction.

She swallowed, eyes on the path ahead. It was just riding. She'd done it a hundred times before. But this combination: bareback, at this speed, with Rob pressed tightly against her? This was new. Rob's movements caught up in hers until the two were indistinguishable.

A thought flickered—did he feel it too? The same pounding rhythm, the same blur of motion that left no room to separate horse from rider, rider from sibling?

She pushed it down, clamping tighter with her thighs, forcing her body to keep up with the gallop. Still, the question hung there, echoing with every pulsing stride.

Cricket eased down, the gallop breaking into a hard trot, then a walk. Jenny's body kept moving a moment longer, her thighs trembling from the grip, her stomach still braced tight. Every muscle felt alive, buzzing with the memory of the rhythm even after it had stopped.

Rob's arms stayed tight against her ribs. When Cricket stepped, Jenny drew in a breath, sharp, and tried to steady it. The ache in her core was different today. The simmer between her legs was different too, more insistent, and she couldn't decide if it had been only the horse or if Rob's weight and hands had been part of it too.

She swallowed and finally said, low, "That was... different."

Rob gave a short laugh behind her, nervous at the edges, as he loosened his hold. "Yeah. Fast."

"Not just fast." She kept her eyes ahead, watching Cricket's ears flick with each step. "Bareback feels... more. You feel everything."

There was a pause. She could hear him thinking.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I noticed."

Her cheeks heated. Not from the ride this time. She wanted to ask—not for the first time—what did you notice, Robert? The stride? The rhythm? Or the same confusing overlap she had? But she didn't ask. She didn't dare.

Instead, she shifted her seat, rolling her hips once as Cricket slowed to a halt. The ache flared again, fresh enough to make her bite her lip.

She slid off first, boots hitting the ground. Her legs wobbled with the leftover tremor, and she had to plant her feet wide to steady herself. When Rob dropped down after, she avoided his eyes.

Still, the thought pressed at her—did he feel it too?

Rob shrugged the backpack off his shoulders and dropped it in the grass. He pulled out the tripod, legs snapping open, and planted it in the gravel of the creekbed. Jenny watched him work, adjusting knobs, muttering about the light. He looked different with his face pressed to the viewfinder, serious, older somehow.

"Alright," he called, waving her back. "Run her toward me, nice and steady. Keep going right past me, and I should be able to get a few shots."

Jenny turned Cricket and walked her up the creek bed; her stomach tight with anticipation. The gallop earlier still hummed inside her, a memory of rhythm and heat. This time would be easier, she hoped, without Rob behind her, but that didn't stop the nerves from twitching in her chest.

She mounted Cricket and turned her back toward her brother. It really would be a shame if these shots didn't turn out. Jenny clicked her tongue, and they surged forward again.

— — —

These are going to turn out great, Rob thought as Jenny thundered toward him, the water trickling over his shoes. He hadn't told her to pretend he wasn't there. She just seemed to know. Her whole body completely intent on the ride, perfectly in sync with Cricket. The look on her face a strange combination of deep concentration and wild abandon.

Closer now. Keep her in focus. fierce, untamed, almost dangerous. He almost forgot to press the shutter. Then he forced himself to click. Once. Twice. She was past—water slashing up around him as she flew by.

She reigned in and circled back, still not really looking at him. Her face was flushed, her breathing looked deep.

Jenny slowed Cricket and her breathing as she approached Rob. "How was that?"

"That was amazing. You were amazing. The look on your face was fantastic. If I had known you could do that, I would have set up for a closer shot. Want to try it again?"

Jenny bit her lip, then nodded her head. She continued riding past him."Where are you going?" Rob called after her.

"I want to come from the other side."

That was actually a good idea. It would make the whole series seem like it was shot at different locations. Jenny was really getting into this, and hadn't brought up the kiss either.

— — —

Okay, that was a little easier. Jenny thought. The stride had hit like before—her thighs clamping, hips rocking with each pounding step, core muscles burning to keep pace. Not as consuming as it had been with Rob holding on tight, but still raw and demanding.

Her body was returning to normal. She could do this. It's just Cricket. She's done this a hundred times before. She turned and waited. Rob held up his palm, fiddled with something, and then motioned for her to start.

She was wet now; she hadn't noticed how Crickets' hooves had sprayed her on the first run. It was exhilarating. For a moment, she forgot about the camera, then caught sight of Rob behind the tripod. His face was intent, eyes locked on her.

He's so focused on me.

The thought jolted her, and she almost lost her seat. That was a different sort of exciting.

One more shot and I think we're done," Rob said once she returned. "This one will be a longer shot. I'm going to set up on the bank and shoot you as you ride past. I think I can get off half a dozen shots."

"How was that pass? Jenny asked. "Anything you want me to do differently?"

"Not a thing, you were perfect." Rob looked at her a little closer, "Actually, you're pretty soaked, and a little disheveled. Let's make use of that. Let's make it look like you've been galloping down the creekbed for a long time. You're soaked, but determined... I don't know. You want to get away from someone, and they are chasing you."

"I'm running away from bandits?" Jenny asked a little incredulously.

Rob smiled and laughed. "Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing here. Pick your own motivation. I want to see you riding low, leaned over Cricket's neck, alternating between looking forward and looking back."

Jenny nodded, "Yeah, okay, I get it now. I'm running away from the bad guys. You're the boss."

Rob grabbed the tripod and headed for the bank as she walked back upstream. This is really the only spot on the creek that would work for what Rob wanted. The rest was just too curvy.

She knew she was in for something different this time. Crouching low over Cricket's neck would put her more in contact with the mare. Jockeys did it, but they had stirrups. That gave her an idea.

— — —

When Jenny finally pulled up on Cricket's mane to slow her down, she just swung off and dropped into the shallows without thinking. The creek water rushed cold over her skin, washing away sweat and spray. She lay back, eyes closed, the current tugging at her hair. For a moment, she let herself feel only that. The ache in her thighs, the pounding in her ribs, and the lingering image of Rob behind the camera slowly drifted downstream.

After a bit, Rob came splashing down to where she lay in the creek, equipment back in his backpack. "I can't believe you did that without the shirt and bridle! That was such a better shot. It never would have occurred to me to even ask. Your arms looked great when you pulled taunt against Cricket's mane, and the leather vest just barely covered your chest. It was so... It was a great shot."

"There were bad guys chasing me. I didn't have time to mess with a shirt or bridle." He lay down next to her and let the water wash over him, too.

They let the water roll for a while, Cricket munching on willow leaves. Rob finally broke the silence. "Thank you. I sure hope those turn out. You looked amazing. Ready for one more gallop home?"

"I think Cricket is ready for a nice, safe walk back to the barn," she answered without explanation. Something around here ought to be safe.

== Author's Note 2.9 ==

This chapter wasn't in the original writing, when I wrote from Book 1 to Book 5. It was early in Book 1 that I decided that Rob having an interest in photography would open up a lot of good opportunities for him to look at the girls in ways that his personality wouldn't lend itself to. It also lets Rob set up chapters like this. I don't intend for the photography to be a main theme, but I have a chapter planned around it in each book now.

Anyone good with AI image generation? Want to give what Jenny looked on that last ride a shot?